


Storybrooke Hill

by Jinxter



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, Graphic minor character death, Silent Hill mashup, brief allusions to past child abuse and past marital rape, horror themes, monsters and creatures, no beards, spooky atmosphere, unhappy Rumbelle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-17 18:34:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 39,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4677035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jinxter/pseuds/Jinxter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Silent Hill mashup. </p><p>Storybrooke doesn't exist on any map Emma has ever seen, but during a police chase, she crashes her motorcycle over the town line. Inside, something is happening, something sinister. The town is shrouded in a thick fog. The townsfolk are not alone, and apparently it is up to Emma to save them all. Regina and Henry believe she can do it, but things are not quite as they seem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Storybrooke Hill Fanmix](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4697576) by [cesibear](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cesibear/pseuds/cesibear). 



> Hi Bangers! This story came to me a long time ago when I watched Silent Hill, and the cop/mother dynamic made me think it'd be a perfect SQ shell. I initially began it as part of a much longer story, but I knew I'd never end up writing all of it so I adapted part of what I had written it into a single-part story for SQBB. I didn't (due to months of procrastination and then an unexpected family event that required me to travel overseas for the final two weeks) write some of it until the last minute. So it's a bit rough, I'm afraid.
> 
> To my beta, Kate, you have done an amazing job. I've never worked with a beta before and I know I am not particularly forthcoming. You gave wonderful guidance on the parts I shared with you, sorry I didn't give you much to work with! Thank you for all your advice and corrections, and thank you for not killing me for my frequently changing tense. Any and all mistakes are all mine and totally my fault for leaving it until the last possible moment to finish writing. 
> 
> To my artist, Cesi, fellow bang virgin, how wonderful that you know and love Silent Hill and we could fangirl about it together. I am so excited to see what you have created!
> 
> To my cheerleader, Raee, thank you for your gentle prods to spur my muse out of her (seemingly eternal, these days) slumber.
> 
> And to my readers, supporters, commenters etc, thank you so much, and I hope you enjoy this story!

Saturday, October 22, 2011 – 7:37pm

Emma leans the powerful bike into the corner as she takes it fast, opening the throttle and feeling the raw power surge beneath her as the road straightens out again. She smiles, keeping her mouth closed, then eases back. She is the law now, and she knows she should refrain from breaking it as much as possible. The sun had long set and the empty roads make her feel completely alone, a comfortingly familiar feeling.

She is heading back to town from a more difficult than expected cattle-on-road situation out near Blue Hill. Large animals are not really her thing, and since she'd spent most of her life in cities, getting used to country living is a steep learning curve. Still, she's glad for the change and happy to be on the road a lot of the time, keeping moving, although she wavers between wondering if she does so more to escape her past or head towards her future.

She'd spent the past few years in Boston working as a bail bondsperson until one of her cop friends had managed to convince her to join the force. The cost of living was going up, and though she was good at her job, there were more bondspeople than ever and her paychecks were getting fewer and further between, and it was getting more dangerous taking on hardened and organized criminals just to pay the bills. She had decided that a steady paying job, a good one on the right side of the law, would look great on her resume and surely help to set her up for the future.

Then, last Christmas during a wallow of loneliness, she had succumbed to the urge to pull up stakes again and had drunkenly searched job opportunities. She had stumbled across the signups for the Maine Highway Patrol training program and thrown her name in the ring. She'd got the spot and moved within the week, subletting her apartment and leaving her life behind yet again with barely a second thought. She’d found a long-haul trucker in Vassalboro who was looking for someone to mind his house while he was on the road for long stints and moved into his spare room while she was at the MCJA, and she had moved to Blue Hill after she had been stationed at Ellsworth, not minding the short commute.

Ellsworth also happened to be close to the general area of her birthplace, the closest link to any sense of home that she had felt, as fragile and damaged as that connection was. But still, she had decided to take the opportunity, at face value if nothing else. The pay was excellent, and the fresh air and scenery was a nice change. It had felt like her best chance to try to find some way of belonging somewhere.

Glancing at her fuel gauge she decides to pull in for gas at the upcoming station, before she heads further south to do a lap around town and head back to the station to finish up the paperwork before her shift ends at midnight. She loves the late shift, enjoying the day slipping into night and the peaceful quiet that it brings.

She flicks her indicator on as the lit 'Surry Gas' sign draws closer, and she pulls up to the pumps. Swinging her leg over the bike and resting the machine on it's side stand, she partially unzips her leather jacket, takes off her sunglasses and tucks them into the breast pocket of her uniform shirt. Although she didn't need the glasses for the sunshine any longer, they were vital for her to see given that the police helmet was irritatingly visor-less, a change made a few years back as part of a state-wide move to make the police appear less intimidating. She runs her tongue over her teeth and wryly chuckles about how hard it is to be intimidating with bugs splattered across your face. She had quickly learnt to always keep her mouth shut while riding, too, not appreciating the added protein in her diet as she rode at full speed through swarms of midges.

She hangs up the pump and re-starts the bike when the tank is full, and rides it to the parking area and kicks down the stand again with her boot. She unclips the helmet under her chin but leaves it on while she pats down her pockets to find the one with the police fuel card in it.

Pushing through the door, she is a little surprised that there are a few more people inside than she'd have expected at this time of night. The greasy food on their plates began to explain their large waistlines and red faces, and she wonders if the locals eat at the gas station diner regularly.

Something about wearing the motorcycle uniform gives her a confidence boost that not even her Boston PD uniform did. It causes her to exaggerate her movements, lengthens her stride, puts a proud swing in her hips. Up here she feels the most like herself that she’s felt in forever. 

She strides to the counter where the owner's kid was eyeing her surreptitiously. Country kids like her, she quickly learnt, were always suspicious of cops since there was nothing much to do around here and it was quite common for their regular activities to be less-than-legal. But she wasn't here to hunt them down like a predator because of a badly-rolled joint or some under-age canoodling. She was young once, and she was pretty sure she was in no position to judge.

“Officer,” the girl says, her blonde hair partly restrained by a hideous paisley bandanna tied around her head. Emma was no fashionista but even she knew that bandanna didn't go with the flannel shirt the teenager was wearing.

“Hey, Kat,” she greets the girl after briefly glancing at her name tag. “I just wanted to pay for the gas with this,” she hands over the fuel card, “and I'll take a plate of the lasagne and a coke please.”

“Sure thing.” Kat swipes the fuel card for the gas payment, then rings up the food. “That'll be seven dollars ninety cents.”

Emma hands over the cash and wanders toward the seat in the window near the door. It is stuffy in the diner, the aircon doesn’t seem to be on and it and smells of grease. She hoped that sitting near the poorly sealed door would provide a slight breeze, enough to make her mealtime bearable. As much as she was enjoying the country air up here in Maine, she was severely missing the variety of food options that were available to her back in Boston. Given she didn't often cook herself, more out of a lack of interest in cooking for one than an inability to do so, along with a disinterest in pre-planning and shopping ahead of time, she had relied on buying her meals for most of her adult life.

She cricks her neck after taking off her helmet and places the visor-less dome on one of the spare seats. She take off her jacket and drapes it over the other spare seat, and sits down heavily into the chair opposite her gear. She runs her fingers through her hair, shaking loose her long, blonde curls before removing the hair tie from her wrist and tying it back in a high ponytail.

Kat walks towards her with a large plastic cup of coke and a plate of sloppy-looking lasagne, accompanied by desiccated lettuce doused liberally in a watery mayonnaise. Emma tries to refrain from scrunching her nose at what apparently counts as salad in these parts. Still, she hasn't eaten since lunchtime, so despite the lack of appeal of the side salad, she thanks the girl and tucks into the reheated pasta with gusto.

Lasagne is one of Emma’s favourite meals, but she prefers it less greasy and with a little more flavour than the one she’s currently eating. Ever the foster kid, though, she still clears her plate and then takes it up to the counter where Kat is reading some old, trashy, heteronormative romance novel.

“Everything alright, officer?” she asks tearing her eyes away from the yellowed page.

“Yep, fine thanks. Hey can I grab one of those cupcakes as well, please?” Emma gestures to the two cupcakes left in the cabinet that, likely a little stale by now if the crusty frosting was anything to go by, but still edible.

Kat reaches across with the tongs and places it on a small plate. She pushes it across the counter. “Two bucks.” Emma smiles and hands over the cash, taking the cupcake back to her table. She sits and sighs, and stares at the small cake for a while.

Headlights light up the diner windows as a shuttle bus pulls in, up in front of the diner rather than to the gas pumps. Kat curiously peers out around the advertisements pasted on the window, and Emma turns slightly to watch the bus doors open and a young boy with messy brown hair and a large backpack clambers down the steps before turning and waving to the driver. The doors close and the bus drives away.

The boy enters the diner and looks around happily. It didn't surprise her that she didn't recognize him, but her interest was piqued when she noticed that Kat didn't either, and she began to wonder who this kid was. Most of the kids in these parts knew each other, or of each other, in some way or another, and here he was all by himself.

He walks up to the counter and orders something, and Emma can tell by where Kat points him that he asked where the bathrooms were. He digs some coins out of his pocket for his order before turning and walking towards the bathroom, which is located behind Emma. He pauses next to her table and takes in her uniform. Emma quirks her head but doesn't say anything, just raises her eyebrow with a neutral expression.

The kid looks at her, the cupcake, and back at her again with large, hazel eyes, a little sad but with an irrepressible sparkle in them, and the tiny curl that had been at the edge of his lip turns to a cheeky smile. “Don't cops usually eat donuts?”

She huffs amusedly and smiles back at him. “Not today, kid.” He grins and trots past her, the bathroom door swings closed behind him.

Emma reaches across to her jacket and unzips the front left pocket, pulling out a lighter and a small blue candle in the shape of a star, which she jabs into the top of the cupcake. “Another banner year.” she grumbles as she lights, then closes her eyes and pauses a moment before blowing it out. Same tradition, but a different wish this year.

* * *

Saturday, October 22, 2011 – 2:14pm

Checking once again the crumpled piece of paper gripped in his hand, Henry looks at the street sign and the building number. He pushes the buzzer for #205 and waits. And waits. Then he pushes all the buttons and seconds later the door clicks and he pushes it and steps through. He climbs the stairs hurriedly, too excited now to wait for the elevator, and then he is puffing slightly, standing outside her door. He takes a deep breath, quickly finger-combs his hair, then presses the doorbell.

When there's no answer, he pushes it again and presses his ear to the door to listen for movement inside. There is none. He bangs on the door with his fist in frustration. A door opens behind him, startling him, and he spins around pressing his backpack against the door he had been knocking on a moment ago.

A white-haired old man narrows his eyes and pokes his face closer to Henry's. “What do you want, boy?” he asks gruffly.

Henry straightens his posture. “I'm looking for Emma Swan.”

“Swan? You're too late for Swan!” He growls. “Long gone. Girl left town. Up north somewhere. New job.”

Henry's shoulders sag and he frowns. “Do you know if she left a forwarding address?”

“Do I look like the penpal type?” The old man shouts at him crankily before closing his door.

Henry retreats downstairs, and he trudged along the corridor, his sneakers scuffing on the polished floors. He notices a sign on the door closest to the entrance, saying "Building Manager". He asks again, ever hopeful that Emma had left a forwarding address, but alas Emma didn’t leave one with her either. With his head down, he dawdles back out to the street, suddenly feeling very homesick. He waves down another taxi and climbs in.

“South Station, please.”

* * *

Saturday, October 22, 2011 – 7:23pm

Frantic with worry, she wrings her hands and paces across the landing toward the base of the stairs and back again. Her cheeks are damp with drying tears, the sadness easing again as her emotions run the gauntlet through degrees of fear, anger, worry and sadness. She smooths down the lines of her grey dress, more out of nervousness than necessity, and tucks her short, dark hair behind her ear.

“Regina, we'll keep looking for him through the night,” the sheriff standing next to her says, his smooth Irish accent further softening his words.

She glares at him and he shrinks under her gaze, his puppy-dog eyes sheltered behind his floppy brown hair. He had only just finished telling her how he and his search and rescue hacks had failed to find her missing son and had the gall to presume his assurances would give her comfort. “Of course you will, Graham! You will look for him until you find him,” she growls, anger surging through her veins. “Now get back out there!”

Duly scolded, the Sheriff nods in acquiescence and takes a step backwards towards the door when they both hear Regina's mobile phone message tone emit from the study. She strode across the open space, heels clacking on the wooden floorboards, and braces herself against the side table when she sees the message is from Henry.

_Operation Cobra failed, Mom. She wasn't there. I'll be on the shuttle from Bangor, ETA Blue Hill Gas/Diner 8pm. Can u pick me up? Bring bike rack._

Tears stream down her cheeks and her heart flutters with relief knowing that her son is safe, but also with disappointment that he didn't have the Savior with him. She quickly taps out her reply.

_I will be there. I love you, be safe. Mom. Xx_

Regina turns to Graham. “You can call off your hounds, Sheriff. My son is on his way back now. Thank you for your efforts, however fruitless they proved to be.” She dismisses him with a wave of her hand, though he pauses with his hand on handle of the open door, it's gold '108' catches the streetlight.

“Madam Mayor, if you require anything further, feel free to ask.”

She answers with a raised eyebrow and crosses her arms over her chest. He winces, tips his head toward her and closes the front door.

She had woken up to find her son missing from his room, a note left simply stating that he would be that night. She also had to deal with reports of smoke billowing from the disused mines. Smoke that had become thicker throughout the day. Oddly, the smoke didn't really have any smell, but it had enveloped the entire town in a greyish-white fog, and slowly but surely everything was being dusted with a fine layer of ash.

As Mayor, Regina had been liaising with the volunteer fire crew, who had been apparently brain-storming what to do about the mines, since they were grossly unequipped for such technical tasks, and with the one-man police department on both matters of the fires and her missing child. After she had scoured all of her son's favourite spots around town, Regina had gone to the Town Hall to trawl through maps and records with the fire crew, just in case, somehow, he had made his way down into the mines. She knew he knew what was down there, but she had to believe in her heart that he hadn't deviated from the original plan he had tried to convince her of, and had obviously lied to her about when she had insisted he refrain.

She had also been doing research in her own personal library, all the while checking in with David Nolan, leader of the search party that was trying to locate her son. As the town Animal Control person, he was familiar with many of the areas of the small town that she frequented less often, and she hoped would give him an advantage in locating the curious ten-year-old boy.

Checking the time, she realises she had better get on the road if she were to meet him at the diner on time. She locks up the house and reverses the car down the driveway and drives slowly into the night, her fog lights shining brightly upon the falling ash.

* * *

Saturday, October 22, 2011 – 7:58pm

Emma pushes away the empty cupcake plate, save a few crumbs and flake of dried frosting, and reaches over for her helmet and jacket. She unties her hair – the helmet was tight and having her hair tied up inside it pressed the knot into her skull and gives her a headache – and she twists her hair up and tucks it inside as she pulled the helmet down. She slips her arms into her jacket and zips it up half-way.

A vehicle pulls into the diner car park, a black coupe. It looks old but in great condition, pretty much a classic, although it's quite dusty. When the headlights switch off she can see the driver re-applying her red lipstick. The door opens and the woman steps out of the car. Emma raises an eyebrow. The woman's dress was something else, grey, designer, and hugging all her curves. She casually repositioned a lock of her fairly short, immaculately styled dark hair her brow, and with her graceful poise in those black high heels over the uneven ground, the deputy knew this woman was much too classy to be from this neck of the woods.

A few minutes ago, Emma had stopped the boy who had teased her about her choice of dessert when he returned from the bathroom and asked him what he was doing there alone. He'd assured her his mom was picking him up, and had taken a seat a couple of booths in front of her. She'd decided to wait in the diner until his mother arrived, and since she could now see him shrinking down in his seat as the gorgeous brunette enters the diner, she guesses that woman is his mom and he thinks he's in deep trouble.

The diner door opens with a squeak and the boy slides out of his seat and turns to face his mother, The woman's heels click on the linoleum as she walks quickly past Emma, a quiet, relieved "Henry" escapes her lips, and the boy is swept into a tight embrace. Emma's eyes are flit from his mother's shapely calves to her rear, where the fabric of her dress pulls tight as she bends to hug her son. She pinches his chin affectionately when she stands, and he smiles up at her. She gestures for Henry to sit again, and after a brief look of distaste at the plastic seat of the booth, she sits opposite the boy.

Emma can't hear what they’re saying, initially, as their voices are hushed, but she keeps her ear on them. The woman's expression isn't angry, as it seemed her son had been expecting, rather she appears to be relieved more than anything, though there is still tension around her eyes. Something feels a little off to Emma, and it doesn't help that the woman's beautiful but sad brown eyes regularly dart up over her son's head, glancing at her, at her uniform.

Emma stands, and after taking another quick look at the pair, her eyes locking momentarily with the brunette's, she walks towards the exit. She can feel the woman's eyes on her as she pulls open the diner door and steps out into the darkness to take a look over the woman's car. It is an early 80s model Mercedes, all original, very straight – not a scratch on it. Underneath the fine layer of dust it appears to be polished, and the tyres are black and new.

Standing half in the shadows, she hears the diner door open behind her.

“We can't just leave them there, they're trapped!” the boy was protesting.

His mother’s hand rests on his shoulder and she speaks softly but firmly. “Henry, I think it’s best, until we know what exactly is going on.”

“I need my bike.” He remembers, and runs to the side of the diner where a BMX is chained to a fence. He unhooks it and his mother helps him click it into the bike rack on the back of the car. “We have to go back, it's what a hero would do,” he pleads before falling silent when he notices his mother stiffen when she finally notices the cop standing at the front of her car.

“Get in the car, Henry.” Her voice is still soft, but the instruction clearly an order, and the boy watches Emma with wide eyes. She guides him to the passenger side, closes the door behind him, all the while side-eying the deputy, her eyes narrow. She moves to walk around the front of the car past where Emma is standing. The officer raises an eyebrow at the brunette. For someone seemingly so wary of her, stepping into her personal space to squeeze through the small gap between cop and car is a ballsy move.

“Need any help, ma'am?” Emma asks, keeping her voice calm and helpful, though all her instincts are trying to tell her... something.

“No, dear. We're fine, thank you,” the woman replies. Emma continues to watch her as she approaches the driver's door and opens it. “We're fine,” she repeats, more firmly, and her glare remains fixed on Emma until she is securely belted inside the vehicle. When the woman starts the engine Emma pulls her notepad out of her pocket, and as the pair drive away she notes down the licence plate number.

She swings her leg over her bike and radios the station requesting a check on the plate number. A few moments later the dispatcher replies to advise that the plate number given had never been registered to any vehicle in the state of Maine. Emma smiles, proud of her sharp instincts, and she radios back to base that she is in pursuit.

* * *

Saturday, October 22, 2011 – 8:04pm

When Regina first suggests to Henry that they shouldn't return to Storybrooke that night due to the strange events that started after he had left the town that morning, his protests begin to draw attention, so she ushers him out the door. She hadn't seen the cop standing there initially, not until Henry approached the rear of the car walking his bike. Regina's heart skips a beat, and there is something about the officer that sets her nerves on edge. It is as though the blonde can see right through her.

“Get in the car, Henry.” She urges, and clicks the catch holding the bicycle in the rack. The cop is making her nervous, just standing at the front of her car, watching them like a hawk. She guides Henry into his seat and closes the door behind him before squaring her shoulders and walking toward the cause of her immediate concern.

“Need any help, ma'am?” the officer asks, her voice soft but her posture imposing, self-assured. Cocky, even.

The cop doesn't move, and Regina is forced to turn her body sideways slightly to step between the woman and the car, close enough to smell the leather of her jacket and undertones of something more floral with a hint of vanilla. Close enough to be able to check her lipstick in the reflection of the sunglasses, if she wanted to.

“No, dear. We're fine thank you.” she replies. The cop continues to stare as Regina approaches the driver's door. “We're fine.” she repeats, more firmly this time, and she locks eyes with the woman as though she could convince to back off by direct eye contact, though one-sided. Buckling her seatbelt, her eyes narrow at the other woman, and she wonders what kind of asshole wears sunglasses in the dark of night.

The cop continued to watch, and as Regina drives away she sees her in the rear view writing something on a notepad, and the feeling of dread sinks in a little deeper. She accelerates away at a normal speed, but presses harder on the gas once they are a short distance from the gas station, trying to put a little distance between them.

Regina continues watching the rear view mirror for the first miles, but while debating with Henry about whether they would seek accommodation in that night in Ellsworth or turn off to Storybrooke, she lets her attention drop. When the lights and siren turn on behind her without warning, the police motorcycle appearing out of nowhere and illuminating the interior of her car with red and blue, Regina curses under her breath.

She pulls over to the side of the road, the gravel of the verge crunching under rubber, and she bites her thumbnail nervously. She mentally tries to convince herself that everything is fine and she must just have a tail-light out or something equally minor, but she can't stop the panic rising within in her, and her fight or flight instinct is taking over. Henry twists in his seat and watches the cop through the rear window. 

“What do we do?” he asks, sounding almost as worried as Regina feels.

“I don't know, Henry,” Regina replies, watching in the wing mirror as the cop dismounts the motorcycle and walks slowly towards them, shining her torch over the vehicle. She glances up and realises she had stopped just short of an old road sign that indicates that the turn-off to the disused mines is just up ahead, shortly before the speed limit drops on the approach to the main township of Surry. Maybe, just maybe, if the cop doesn't know where they are actually headed, she could make it off the main road before the motorcycle could catch up to them.

“Keep your seatbelt fastened, Henry,” she says, and she floors the accelerator. The vehicle skids off from the side of the road, kicking up gravel, and roars off. After rounding the corner she still couldn't see the bike's lights behind them indicating a pursuit, and she takes the turn down the side road at speed, grateful for the well-designed handling system of her car.

They cross a small bridge, after which the road begins to rise. A river runs along at the bottom of the valley on one side, rocky hillside stretches up above them on the other. Regina glances in the mirror still unable to see lights behind her, although the winding road does not provide good visibility. She hopes this works in her favour, and smiles in relief when they pass the 'Welcome to Storybrooke' sign, feeling safety return with familiar surroundings.

Her smile fades quickly, though, and she takes her foot off the accelerator as the smoky haze impedes her visibility. As they round another corner, she spots a number of large rocks scattered from a small slip, and the trunk of a large pine tree blocks the road in front of them. She slams on the brakes and the Mercedes slides sideways. There is a loud bang and scraping sound, and the car tilts to one side before coming to a stop parallel to the fallen tree. The ticking sound of the stalled engine echoes in the stillness.

Breathing heavily, she worriedly looks across at Henry. “Are you okay?”

He shakes himself from his shock and nods. “Yeah, I'm fine.”

There is another bang behind them and they both jump in surprise. Regina motions to Henry to stay put. She opens the car door and climbs out slowly, the headlights the only decent light out here in the woods, although the almost-full moon illuminated the fog and offers some slight, ambient light. 

A gruff female voice speaks to her from out of the darkness, and Regina jumps again in surprise.

“Ma'am, I want you to put both hands on the vehicle.”

Regina turns slowly to her left to see the barrel of a gun pointed at her, and that damn cop. Then her lips part slightly and her brow furrows in confused at how the cop had managed to follow them up the back road and, more importantly, into Storybrooke. No one had ever crossed inside the town line before.

“Put both hands on the vehicle,” The cop repeats more firmly.

Regina complies, unsure what else to do, although she does verbally protest. “I don't think you understand. I am the mayor of this town.”

The cop lowers the gun and advances on her quickly, but Regina is quicker as she spins around and punches the officer in the left eye, hard enough to cause Regina to groan, shaking her hand in an attempt to relieve the pain. The officer recovers quickly, grabs the smaller woman's left bicep and drags her sideways. By way of a firm shove to the middle of her back, Regina is pushed forward, bent over the hood of her own car.

“You're under arrest.” The cop says, slapping handcuffs on Regina's wrists.  
“What?”  
“You have the right-  
“Can we just talk about this?”  
“-to remain silent. Anything you say-”  
“Seriously?”  
“-can and will be held against you in a court of law.”  
“I am the Mayor and my son is in the car!”  
This seems to give the officer pause for thought, but she quickly resumes the rough pat-down. “If you really cared about him, Madam Mayor, you wouldn't have sped off like that.”

When the cop finishes checking her for hidden weapons, the hands holding her down are removed and Regina turns around. She searches for compassion in the officer's green eyes, but all she can see is annoyed indifference. “Listen to me, you need to take these handcuffs off me right away.” She pleads, and can't help the slight quiver in her voice.

“Just calm down,” the cop says, finally softening.

It is then they notice that Henry had climbed across the car and out the driver's door, and is standing next to the two women. He gives his mother a meaningful stare, before fixing his eyes on the officer again. Strangely, he didn't seem at all concerned about his mother being in handcuffs.

* * *

Saturday, October 22, 2011 – 8:15pm

Emma's head pounds and the air around her is thick with the white fog that had appeared all of a sudden, blinding her, and caused her to be thrown from the bike. She had grunted when she'd stood and brushes off her leathers, aware she'll have some decent bruises and road rash, although her high adrenaline ensured that she felt no pain yet.

She had swerved to avoid hitting the rocks scattered across the road, and being trained but not yet very experienced in riding motorcycles, she hadn't been able to keep it upright. She had at least remembered to push away from the bike as it fell to avoid being trapped underneath it's weight, which had caused it to slide further ahead of her, off the edge of the road and into a culvert, while she had come to a stop on the gravelled verge. Her favourite sunglasses had come off in the crash, and she had frustratedly kicked them when she spotted them bent and with only one lens before releasing her gun from it's holster and arresting the driver of the black coupe.

Emma clenches her jaw and looked up from son of the woman she'd just arrested at the large flakes of what appeared to be ash, drifting down like snow from the sky through the beams of the car's headlights.

She lifts her walkie talkie from her belt and presses the button when it reaches her mouth. “Officer Swan to base, over.” She gives the kid a curious look when he makes a strange squeaking sound and clamps his hand over his mouth. When there is no response from dispatch she tries again. “Base, do you copy? Over.” She fiddles with the switch.

“Your name is Officer Swan?” the kid asks. “Are you... Emma Swan?”

She stops fiddling with the radio. She knew she'd been the talk of the town for about five minutes after she arrived, but there was something else in his eyes. She glanced to his mother who appeared just as shocked as her son.

“Yeah kid. How did you know my name?”

His expression brightens. “You moved here from Boston a few months ago?” She nods and tilts her head to the side. He digs into his pocket and holds out a tattered piece of paper. “Is this your old address?”

She warily takes the scrap of paper and flicks her torch on to read it. “Yeah.” She says after a moment. Her eyes narrow in suspicion. “How did you get this?”

Henry whoops and pumps his small fist in the air. Regina and Emma watch him as though he'd just grown an extra head. He stops his celebrations, squares up to the cop, and grins. “I'm your son.”

Emma immediately takes a step back and holds up her hands, the piece of paper flits to the ground. “Whoa, kid. I don't have a son.” She takes another look over the boy with new eyes. His hair, his eyes, nose, lips, chin. If she wanted to, she could let herself believe he was a mix of herself and Neal. She could see it being possible. Her chin, Neal's nose.

“Ten years ago, did you give up a baby for adoption?” he asked. Her eyes widen, her mouth drops open slightly as her breath escapes, and her lack of a denial is enough of an answer for him. “That was me.”

She stares at him for what feels like minutes while her thoughts gather together into some semblance of order, then she looks to the kid's mother. She thinks it strange, now, but she can also see a likeness between the pair of them as well. Her complexion was slightly darker than his, but the shape of his eyes and cheeks seem to be more Mayor than either Neal or herself. She doesn't know what to believe, but the kid knowing her name and previous address was extremely rattling.

The adoptive mother's expression was of utter surprise as well as she studies Emma's features and then rake her eyes over Emma's body. She shakes her head slightly and regains her composure, returning her eyes to Emma's face. “You're Henry's birth mother?”

Emma stares back at her, shocked at the turn of events, but she smiles weakly. “Hey.”

* * *

Saturday, October 22, 2011 – 8:16pm

Regina licks her lips and looks at the cop as though for the first time. Her mind is swimming with thoughts but all she can focus on is that yes, she can see the similarities. Henry has this woman's chin, and although she has a greater number of tiny freckles dotted across her nose and cheeks than he does, the pattern of them is the same. Regina's eyes trace high cheekbones, smooth skin, pink lips, petite nose. She is beautiful. Lean, and very fit, if the flatness of her stomach and the muscular legs she can see defined through the tight, scuffed leather uniform pants are anything to go by. And although young, she has a wizened look in her eyes. And now, thanks to her, a freshly split brow.

“You're bleeding,” Regina says distractedly.

Emma reaches up and touches her gloved fingers to the tender eye socket that the driver had punched a few moments ago, and when she pulls them away she can see moisture on the fingertips of her black leather gloves glisten in the ambient light from the car headlights.

“You got me pretty good there, Madam Mayor. You have one hell of a right cross.” Emma smiles a little, impressed, then tilts her head. "What's your name?"

“Regina Mills,” she replies with a small smile of her own and quietly preens at the compliment.

Emma pauses as she evaluated the situation. “You two alright to walk?”

Regina looks to Henry and back, and nods. “Sure.”

The cop leans into to the car, turns the headlights off and takes the keys, before locking it up and slipping the keys in her pocket. She takes hold of the brunette's bicep again, a little more roughly than Regina expected, and with her torch shining a path, Emma starts walking them back down the road in the direction they had come from. “Then it looks like we'll be hiking back to Surry. Come on, kid.”

“Excuse me?” Regina asks confusedly.

“You're going back to the station.” Emma tugs her arm again as Regina struggles against the direction.

“Are you kidding?” Henry asks, trotting along behind them.

“Nope.” Emma says firmly.

“But we can't leave, Emma!” Henry cries out, grabbing onto her free arm. “You're inside the town line! You're the Savior!”

The blonde's pace faltered for a second and her eyes dart to the boy. “I'm just a cop, kid.”

He run ahead of her and stands defiantly in the beam of her torch. “You're the Savior! You have to help us! You're the only one who can!”

Emma stands silently, staring at Henry, his mother's arm still firmly in her grasp.

“Mom, tell her!” The boy pleads.

Regina swallows. “He has this book... he believes it to be true.”

"It is true!" Henry exclaims. "You're part of the prophecy! Snow White and Prince Charming sent you to this world as a baby knowing that you would make it back here and break the curse!"

Regina clears her throat. "Storybrooke is much closer, if you just take us there I'm sure we can sort this out."

The officer looks back and forth between mother and son. “This is crazy.” She mutters. She knows this road leads to disused mines. She knows the story of young Owen, alive only because his father’s plan to drop him into the mines was derailed when he was intercepted by police. Custody disputes, Emma thinks, and her stomach twists as her instincts to protect the boy in front of her surge forward, and not just from a lawkeeper place, and that terrifies her. She squeezes again the bicep in her grip, she drags the unwilling woman forward again.

Regina feels anger rising in herself again. “Have you heard a single word I've said?”

“Yeah.” Emma replies flatly.

“Have you heard a single word I've said!?” she shouts again. “The least you could do is return your son to his home. Why aren't you listening to me?” Regina stops in her tracks and wrenches her arm free, staring angrily at the cop.

“This road doesn't lead to a town on any map I've seen," the cop counters, "and how do I even know he is my son?” It's a low blow, but she's struggling to maintain control of the situation. She grabbing Regina by the shoulder and urged her on again. Emma has memorized all the maps of this area, knows all the roads like veins on the back of her hand. This region is of particular interest to her, although she doesn't know how to explain the 'Welcome To Storybrooke' sign they had passed earlier and were now approaching from the other side. “And you're trying to tell me you're the Mayor of this mysterious, unknown town and I -- a random unknown stranger -- am meant to save you? From what exactly?”

Both women slow as the torchlight disappears over the jagged edge of the road in front of them. Regina and Henry stop a short distance back, Emma continues walking to the edge of the crumbled surface, where the asphalt stops and a sheer rock face drops away below. “Stay back, kid.” She instructs, a tone of incredulity and fear in her voice. They surely would have heard or felt a slip this big, but either way there is no way they can continue back to Surry in this direction.

“Now you have to take us to Storybrooke." Regina strains against the cuffs and huffs in exasperation. "Take these handcuffs off me!”

The cop steps back from the edge and walks back to the other woman until they stand face to face. “No. There is no Storybrooke, but there should be a fire lookout tower on the far side of the lake. It should have a radio.” She grabs Regina by the arm again and marches her back towards their crashed vehicles and the fallen tree.

“Idiot.” Regina mutters quietly. “Henry,” she calls, “I believe in my rush to leave the house I left my phone there on the charge. You still have Sheriff Graham's number in yours, don't you? Could you please call him to come and collect us?”

The boy shakes his head. “My phone died before I got to the diner, I played too many games on the shuttle from Bangor.”

Emma's step falters in surprise and she twists to look at the boy. “Bangor? What were you doing there? Were you by yourself?” She remembers him getting off the bus by himself, but to be alone, without a phone, and now knowing that he was her... that he might be her blood. She felt an unexpected and strong protective instinct rise in her gut.

“I went looking for you," he says proudly. "I went to Boston.”

“Holy shit, kid!”

“Miss Swan!” Regina scorns.

“Sorry! I mean, wow, kid. That is so not cool, running away by yourself like that. Your poor mom must have been worried sick! That was a pretty dangerous thing to do. She's gonna kill you when you get home.”

He laughs. “Maybe. She is the Evil Queen after all.”

Regina groans.

“Say what now?” Emma asks.

“She's the Evil Queen, and you're the Savior. You're here to break the curse that she cast.” he explains slowly, as if his tale was the most reasonable thing in the world. Emma's concentration fades as he starts rambling on about various fairytale characters being people in their town, and he tells her how they are cursed and don't know who they really were.

“The book is in my bag, you need to see it.” He slings the backpack off his shoulder and touches the clasp.

Emma reaches out and stops him. “How about we get somewhere safe and warm first, okay? Then you can tell me all about it.” She isn't sure she wants to hear it, but she knows she doesn't want to hear it out here on the edge of nowhere.

She keeps walking and lets go of the other woman's arm as they approach the car. “Kid, do you want to ride your bike?” The last thing she wants is a tired, whinging kid slowing them down. This night is proving to be long and tiring enough already, and still far from over.

When he agrees, she lifted the bike from the rack and he holds it upright while she unclips the LED light from the front of her uniform, switches it on, and attaches it to his coat. She tucks his grey and red striped scarf in so it doesn't obstruct the beam.

“Do you have a helmet?”

He shakes his head, so Emma takes hers off and places it on his head. It fits okay, only a little too big, and she wryly remembers the last time she thought about her kid having a big head. She fastens it under his chin and tightens the strap. Running her fingers through her hair, she once again pulls the hair tie from her wrist and ties her unruly, loose curls up in a ponytail.

She lifts the bicycle over the fallen tree and Henry scampers over the trunk himself. Propping the torch against a branch, she walks back to the tree and throws a leg over, straddling it, before gesturing for the other woman to come over to her. “Come on then.”

“Excuse me?” Regina says haughtily, raising an eyebrow.

Emma rolls her eyes. “If you want to head this way, come over here.”

On the other side of the road block, Henry rides in circles, the torch clipped to his coat beaming out in front of him like a headlight. “Come on, Mom!”

The brunette narrows her eyes and huffs, then walks towards the officer. Emma guides her to turn side on to her, then with one hand under her arm and another under he knees, the blonde hoists her up bridal-style, and in one fluid movement, she swings the woman over the trunk and places her gently on the other side. She collects the torch, vaults herself over, and they start walking to Storybrooke, or the other side of the lake, whichever actually turns out to be there.

* * *

Saturday, October 22, 2011 – 8:47pm

Regina is used to wearing heels all the time, but walking at the pace they were walking at, in the dead of night, while her arm movements are restricted by the handcuffs, the effort it is taking is a lot more than usual. She bites back her crankiness at the cop, knowing they aren't far from town now. She huffs to herself and tugs again at the cuffs, fruitlessly hoping they'll come off this time.

Pedalling slowly alongside the women, Henry talks about the book, the stories, the curse, until Emma tries again to get some peace. “I swear, kid. I'm trying to listen out for bears, I need you to wait with all this curse stuff until we get somewhere safe, okay?” He listens to her, though he pouts and circles around, riding instead next to his handcuffed mother.

The sky darkens as though a thick cloud is passing in front of the moon, and a cool breeze sweeps across Regina's stockinged legs, causing a chill to run up her spine. She slows her pace and her hackles rise as she feels it coming. Up ahead they hear the firehouse siren start winding up. Her eyes widen. “Henry,” she calls urgently. “Henry come here!”

Emma looks at her in confusion, she too can feel the change in the air, but doesn't know what it is. “What's going on?”

“We've had a few... incidents today,” Regina admits. “The same thing happened twice, with the darkening and the siren." She glances at Henry then back at the officer. “Bad things happened.”

Emma and Henry both open their mouths to speak when a sharp noise off to the side of the road behind a chain link fence catches their attention. Emma holds out her arm in a stop motion to the mother and son. “Hey,” she shouts, shining her flashlight in the general direction the noise came from. “Hey you there! I'm a police officer.” She squints to see through the thickening fog, to no avail.

The radio at her hip squeals and hisses with static. She turns the dial and pushes the button to switch it off but the noise continues unchanged. “What the hell?” she mutters under her breath.

The lurching figure comes into view fog and the trio step back in horror. Henry's bicycle crashes the ground as he abandons it to run to his mother and wraps his arms around her waist. The creature steps through a gap in the fence and out onto the road. It is tall, at least a foot taller than both women. It has no arms, no distinguishable face, or gender, and it makes a strange, wheezing noise with every step it takes. Its long, skinny legs bow inwards, and rising up from its tiny hips and narrow waist, a distended chest billows outwards with ribs clearly visible through its taut, mottled grey skin. A gaping hole in the centre of its chest dribbles a thick, black liquid.

The cop stretches her arm out, ushering the mother and son back and away from her and with her other hand she unclips her gun in its holster. Regina guides Henry behind her as best she can while restrained, and they back away off the side of the road until their backs press against the fence. Emma raises her gun up to the creature.

“Shoot it!” Regina demands, a slight tremor in her husky voice.

Emma frowns at the thick black substance as it drips from the creature's chest onto the road. They all hear the sizzling sound it makes and can smell the pungent odour of the smoke rising from the spots on the ground. “Stay where you are!” she yells, but it continues its disjointed waddle towards them.

She takes a step back and shouts again, “Stop!” It rears back, then spews a stream of the thick, black liquid towards her. She leaps backwards and runs a few paces away, and the streak of acidic vomit arcing through the air misses her by only a few feet. She spins on her heel, her nostrils flare in fear and anger. She raises her gun again and fires it at the creature, emptying the entire clip into its head and torso before it falls. 

Emma looks over at the frightened pair, wide eyed and panting. “What the hell was that?”

Stepping away from the fence, Regina lifts her shoulders and shakes her head slightly. “Some kind of demon. They... they come with the darkness.” The blonde give her a dumbfounded stare, the Mayor holds her gaze, unable to offer any further explanation as the wail of the siren in the distance begins to wane.

Plucking another clip from her tactical belt, Emma re-loads and holsters her weapon. She ushers the pair cautiously past the body of the creature, giving it wide a berth, and when she rests a hand on the other woman's forearm, unsure if she was doing so to give or receive comfort, she feels her shivering.

She reaches into her belt for the handcuff keys and releases Regina from the manacles. The brunette rolls her shoulders and rubs her wrists as Emma puts the items away. She unzips and shucks her jacket, and places it around Regina's shoulders. In the moonlight, its brightness returning slowly, she sees the woman cast her a small, grateful smile and pull it close around herself.

As someone who rarely initiates physical contact, Emma surprises herself when she instinctively reaches out and brushes a lock of hair off Regina's face, and leaves behind a dark mark. She suddenly feels flustered and awkward. “Oh, sorry. I must have oil or something on my gloves or the jacket, maybe from the road when I came off the bike.” She peels her gloves off and shoves them into her back pocket.

The Mayor touches her face and looks at the small dark streak on her finger. Emma reaches her hand out toward the other woman's face, and stops in mid-air. “May I?” After receiving a nod of consent, she brushes her thumb over Regina's cheekbone, then again with her fingertips when the black substance smudged. “Sorry,” she chuckles, looking at her dirty hand. “I just made it worse.”

She wipes her hand down the flank of her shirt, and notices Regina holding her own blackened finger away from her dress. "Here," Emma reaches for the finger, cool against her own warm skin, and wipes it on her shirt as well, drawing a line down her abs. She suspects she has unintentionally made the woman uncomfortable when she draws her hand away and averts her eyes. Henry tucks in under his mother's arm and Emma clears her throat as she steps forward to lead the way.

Cautiously they forge ahead through the fog towards town, ears pricked for any sounds, flashlights shining all around. Behind them, the body turns to ash and floats up off the road and into the sky.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry folks, not actually adding chapters, just breaking it down from one massive one to more manageable sections.

Saturday, October 22, 2011 – 9:13pm

The town seems to be deserted when they finally arrive, exhausted and tense, and for Emma confused as well. She had been trying to contact base but hadn't been able to get any response from her radio, and her cell was showing no bars of signal. On top of that, she is now standing in a town that isn't supposed to exist.

“Mom, look!” Henry shouts, pointing up at the town clock. It shows 9:13, and Emma's first instinct is to groan at the certainty that there is no chance of her clocking off at midnight tonight. She realises that Regina has stopped in her tracks and is staring at the clock, brow furrowed.

“What is it?”

Henry answers instead. “The clock has been stuck at 8:15 for my entire life.” He grins wildly. “The curse is beginning to break because you're here! Time is moving again!” He skips energetically around the two women until Regina huffs and resumes walking.

Emma is a little taken aback at the size of the house when Regina leads them through a small wrought iron gate, then she remembers the woman telling her that she's the Mayor. Her stomach does a somersault at the thought that maybe she’ll be in trouble for arresting such an influential person, until she remembers both that the Mayor did fail to stop and so she was entirely justified in arresting her, and that this town doesn't actually exist. Except that it does.

Stepping onto the porch, Regina realizes that the officer has her keys, and Emma seems to remember at the same moment. She fishes them out of her pants pocket, hands them over, and follows the woman and her son to the door. The door swings open and Henry runs in first, but Regina pauses. She turns and looks straight at Emma, seeing her well for the first time, bathed in the warm lights of the house.

“Care for a glass of the best apple cider you ever tasted?” she asks nervously.

Emma lifts her eyes from the shapely silhouette in front of her, inhales and smiles wryly. “Got anything stronger?”

* * *

Saturday, October 22, 2011 – 10:01pm

Emma rubs her hand across her forehead and takes a deep breath. “Okay, let me see if I've got this straight.” She glances across the coffee table at the beautiful brunette, her face now unmarred by the oil she had smudged across it earlier, before returning her focus to Henry. The heavy, leather-bound book he had talked about so much is spread open across his skinny, pyjama-clad legs.

“Your mom here is the Evil Queen from the Snow White story, and she cast a curse that sent all the fairytale characters to this world to live without their memories. But Snow White and Prince Charming put their newborn baby – me – in an enchanted wardrobe to bypass the curse, and now I am here to save everyone?”

Emma looks again at his mother, still a little perplexed that she is not refuting any of this.

The grinning boy nods in answer. “On your 28th – hey! It's your birthday! Happy Birthday!” Then Henry groans. “That's why you had the cupcake at the diner.”

She chuckles. “Yes, any other day I'd have had a bear claw. Don't tell any other cops, but I like them better than donuts -- all the cinnamon is in the filling.” Her eyes again are drawn to the brunette, who is still smiling softly, but Emma sobers slightly at the sadness in her eyes.

“Henry,” Regina says softly. “It is quite late, and well past your bedtime.” His protest is cut short by her hand movement. “I'll explain a few more details to Miss Swan, and the three of us can discuss this further in the morning.”

He groans and rolls his eyes, but heaves the book off his lap and plops it onto Emma's. “Goodnight Emma.” He slides off the couch and rounds the table to hug his mother. “Thanks, Mom,” he whispers, and Emma senses the depth of the moment that lingers between them before Henry drags his feet out of the study and plods up the stairs.

The Mayor stands and collects both their empty glasses, returning them to the side table for a refill. Emma stands also and makes her way to the mantlepiece where she spies at a photo of Henry as a toddler wrapped in his mother's embrace, and she notes that Regina hasn't aged a day.

Emma places the picture frame back onto the mantle next to the clock and turns to face the other woman. She takes the offered refill of 'something stronger' - scotch - and gulps it down to douse the sinking feeling in her stomach. “What do you have to say about all of this?”

Regina hesitates. “I'm not sure. Up until today I thought this was all a fantasy of his, some elaborate concoction to escape reality.” She visibly deflates. "I sent him to therapy over it."

"That seems like something any concerned parent would do," Emma replies. "Although if you knew it was true..."

“I didn't.” She pauses, and places her glass on her desk. “I've often had dreams of a different world, but today... well I realised that they were more than dreams. With the times of darkness came... memories. Memories of the same world. Other townsfolk seem to get them also, but as soon as the darkness lifts they'd forget, while I retained the memories I gained." Her tongue flicks out to wet her lips. "I also came to realise that Henry is the only person in Storybrooke who has aged.”

Emma raises an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

Regina lifts some photo albums from the bookshelf and makes her way to the sofa. She pats the cushion next to her, and Emma sits, compliant and curious.

She flicks through the pages, and although the snapshots of the boy from baby to toddler to child flash past at speed, Emma smiles at how happy he looks in all of them. Regina stops when she finds his school photos. Being a small town, as well as the individual class photos, they were able to fit all the children into one large group shot each year. She pointed Henry out in each one, following the movement every time by pointing out a girl. “This is Paige,” she says.

Emma's mouth falls open as she realises the girl looks exactly the same in all of the photos, from when Henry was in kindergarten, right up until the most recent photo. Different dress and hair, but the same height, the same age.

She gathers her thoughts for a moment, still unable to fully grasp how this is all possible, although it seems now impossible to deny it is true after all she has seen. “So if you're this Evil Queen and I'm here to break your curse, why aren't you trying to stop me? Aren't I your enemy?” 

Regina stands and walks over to the fireplace, collecting her drink from her desk on the way. She's silent as she swirls the ice in her glass.

“Henry's book doesn't tell the full story. Fairy tales here are written from the hero's point of view, and the Evil Queen is given no depth of character nor reason for her dislike of Snow White," she curls her lip, "other than the pathetic and categorically false reason that I was jealous of her looks. Snow and I have a long history, I was barely more than a girl myself when I met her, when she betrayed me." She stares into the fire, and when she speaks again the bitterness has slipped from her voice. "This curse, this town, it was supposed to be my happy ending. It was meant to provide my escape from that life, but it hasn't turned out that way.”

Emma leans forward, elbows rested on her knees, and she waits.

“When the curse was offered to me I didn't know about the prophecy, and frankly, I didn't care.” She looks down at her glass and swirls the ice again. “I didn't that know he had engineered a Savior, a person able to break it."

Placing the photo album on the coffee table, Emma stands and joins Regina in front of the fire. "Who?"

“Rumplestiltskin. Having read Henry's book, I now believe he manipulated me into casting the curse for his own benefit, because he was unable to." Dark eyes meet Emma's. "And now you're here to end it."

Emma swallows, though her mouth feels dry.

"My intention tonight was to not return to Storybrooke, but instead to find a way to take Henry and start a new life somewhere, but he refuses to leave the townsfolk behind. And, well, with you chasing me, I had nowhere else to run. Now the curse has ensured we cannot leave."

“By knocking out the road into town?" Emma's eyebrows raise again. "You think that was the curse?”

“I'm certain of it. The people here have been unable to leave town, I am exempt as the caster, although I do feel an overwhelmingly strong desire to return every time I leave. Henry seems to suffer no such effects, I presume because he was born in this world. He was also convinced that the Savior existed, and was determined to ensure you would arrive tonight.” Regina smiles. "I attempted to dissuade him from looking for you, only for him to run away. Despite his failure to find you in Boston, it seems that fate steered you in our direction, regardless."

Emma ponders this for a while. “How exactly am I meant to save everyone?”

The other woman swallows thickly. “I expect there is only one way to stop the darkness. You'll have to kill her."

"Who?"

"The other Regina. My darkness, my pain and anger, the curse separated it from me, and she... she was confined to a cell below the town."

Emma scoffs, then realises the woman is serious. "Tell me you're kidding." She places her hands on her hips. "I'm not going to kill anyone."

Regina shakes her head. "You have no choice, I'm afraid. No one can leave now, not even the three of us. Whatever is happening, this darkness that keeps coming, it is coming more frequently. Creatures like the one you saw, they come with it, and they will kill us off one by one until there is nothing left to save. You must fulfil your destiny, for all our sakes.”

"What will killing her do to you? Isn't she a part of you?" Emma places her hand on the moulded plaster at the side of the fireplace, feeling overwhelmed by the task ahead of her.

The other woman walks towards her. “What happens to me is not important. All the matters is that you save Henry.” She stands eye to eye with Emma, well inside her personal space, close enough that she can see the resolute look in her eye, which leaves no room for further questions. Emma's eyes flick down to plump, red lips, and she notices in the shadow of the fireplace the subtle scar rising from the woman's top lip. When her eyes raise back up again, she can see Regina's eyes have dropped to her own lips, and knowing they are dry, Emma licks them. With the brunette's slight inhale at the move, she feels a spark pass between them.

She swallows roughly. “Save Henry. Got it.”

The Mayor sighs and seems somewhat annoyed at her flippancy, yet softens her expression when she sees the determination in Emma’s green eyes and the firm set of her jaw. "It has been a long day. I suggest you get some rest. You are welcome to make use of my guest room.” She picks up the leather jacket that had been draped over the back of a chair and holds it out to the blonde. Their hands brush as the item passes between them. "Tomorrow perhaps we should pay Rumplestiltskin a visit, although I warn you to be very cautious."

"Rumplestiltskin is here?"

"Yes, dear. I believe his aim all along was for me to bring him to this world, although I don't know for what purpose." The brunette flicks off the lights and leads the way up the curving staircase, the polished wood cool under Emma's socked feet - her boots placed neatly in the hall cupboard near the entrance. “Would you like something to sleep in?”

Emma shakes her head. “Nah. Thanks but I'll be okay.” She follows the Mayor into the small guest bedroom, and places her jacket and helmet on the chair in the corner.

“The bathroom is the next room down the hall. There is a first aid kit in the cabinet if you wish to take care of your injury.” Emma had washed away the dried blood when they had first arrived back at the house, but left the split otherwise untouched. She is sure someone like Regina would have a good kit with the butterfly closures she needs to close the wound.

“Good night, Miss Swan," Regina turns and smiles politely as she leaves the room, pausing momentarily at the door, "and happy birthday.” The door clicks closed behind her.

Emma bites her lip and silently scolds herself, then unclips her tactical belt and places it on the chair as well. She takes her gun from its holster, opens the closet door and places it on the top shelf, underneath a spare pillow. In the absence of a gun safe, she hopes it will be safe there and out of Henry's reach. She sits on the bed and mulls over the events of the evening, thinking about all she has learned. She wrestles with accepting the truth, and fights the sinking feeling about what she is expected to do. She heaves a deep sigh and heads to the bathroom.

* * *

Sunday, October 23, 2011 – 5:46am

The sound of the firehouse siren rips through the pre-dawn silence and Regina's heart near leaps out of her chest. In a flash she throws off the blankets and runs down the pitch black hallway to Henry's room, avoiding kicking her bare toes against doorframes and furniture by muscle memory alone. He was awake as well, and she grabs his hand, pulling him up out of bed. “Come,” she shouts, “we have to get to the basement!”

The pair ran into a wild-eyed and equally wild-haired Emma in the hallway, her gun in one hand, a shining torch cutting through the darkness in the other. The trio thunder down the stairs and through the kitchen to the basement. The women usher Henry in first, Emma guided Regina in next, although they cram together in the small space at the top of the stairs while they lock and bolt the door together.

“Why do you have so many locks on this?” Emma asked quietly, shining the torch from the top to the bottom of the door, revealing four slide-bolts and a deadlock on top of the regular door latch.

“Security,” Regina replies, breathing heavily.

Emma flicks the light switch, but the room remains dark. She shines the torch down the stairs and they make their way into the main room of the cellar where Henry had already managed to get to by feeling his way along the walls. He sits on an overstuffed sofa with his legs tucked underneath himself and a small blanket wrapped around him. Regina's grey satin pyjamas shimmer in the torchlight as she curls up behind him and pulls him close. Emma stalks around the room and notices the bars on the window and the similarly heavily fortified door to the outside that was already bolted shut.

“Turn off the light and stay still.” Regina whispers. “They seem to be drawn toward light and sound.”

Emma turns off the torch, but holds it in front of her alongside her gun as she shifts slowly and anxiously back and forth between the two entrance points as silently as possible.

A few minutes later the siren dies down, and the light comes on, the sudden brightness blinding them all momentarily. They blink furiously and shield their eyes as they adjust to the harsh light. Emma looks down and blushes with the realisation that she's standing in nothing but her red briefs and white tank top, though she considered it could have been worse had she decided earlier to remove her bra.

Regina's eyes scour up and down her body, taking in the purple bruising running from knee to hip on her the back and side of her left leg.

Henry evidently notices the injury as well. "Whoa! Is that from crashing your motorbike?"

"Yeah," she twists for a better look at it herself, "I've had worse though." Turning away from the mother and son, she crosses the room to the staircase and ascends, unbolts the door at the top, and cautiously steps out into the kitchen. Behind her she can hear Regina and Henry footsteps following her.

She does a quick lap around the lower level, and upon confirming there are no apparent points of forced entry she lowers her gun and follows the pair upstairs.

“Get dressed, Henry. I'll start breakfast,” Regina tells him before she closes his bedroom door.

She turns to Emma, and brown eyes dart over the blonde's barely dressed form again, taking in her long, lean legs (unblemished from the current angle), flat belly with firm muscle visible through the tight fabric, muscle that Regina warms as she remembers touching with her fingertip the night before. She takes in the muscular arms and the wild mane of blonde hair, and licks her lips. “The same goes for you, Miss Swan. If you're hungry.”

Emma releases a shallow breath she hadn't realised she was holding as she watches the older woman saunter into her bedroom. "I'm hungry," she chuckles.

* * *

Sunday, October 23, 2011 – 8:35am

Granny's was open for business, though it was much more empty than it had been at this time of day in the past. Emma held the door open for the pair, Henry ran ahead to claim a booth toward the back of the diner. They were greeted by Ruby as they sat down, offering them menus, which Regina waved away with her hand.

Ruby extended her hand to Emma. “Hi, I don't believe we have met. I'm Ruby.”

Emma shook the offered hand. “Hi Ruby, I'm Emma.”

“She's my birth mother!” Henry piped up, causing two women to cringe and the third to raise her eyebrows.

Regina cut off the chance for further conversation with the waitress. “We'll have a take away order please, Ruby. I'll just have a coffee, a hot chocolate for you, Henry?” The boy nodded. All three turned to the blonde, although in her peripheral vision Regina noticed Ruby raise an eyebrow and lick her lips at the sight of the stranger.

Emma, oblivious to the attention, glances over the drinks menu. “I'll take a hot chocolate as well, please. With cinnamon.” She looks up to see three sets of eyes on her. “What?”

Ruby takes the menu from her hands. “Two hot chocolates with cinnamon and one Mayor's special coffee coming right up.”

Henry grins broadly. “You have your hot chocolate with cinnamon too.”

Emma seems bewildered. “Yeah, I guess. What are the chances, hey kid?” She turns to Regina. “I that kind of stuff inherited or something?”

Regina manages a half smile and shrugs, and she wonders what else this woman and her son have in common. Her heart tightens as she feel her little boy slip a little further away from her. She looks away to help hold back the emotion.

Under the guise of getting her attention to ask a question, Emma leans foward and lightly brushes her hand over Regina's on the table, rubbing it with one swipe of her thumb before pulling away again. “Why is everyone acting like this freaky ashy not-ash sh... stuff and strange darkness monster things is normal?”

Regina leans forward as well and replies quietly. “It's the curse, it makes things seem normal, it blurs the days together so no one really notices that nothing changes, and they don't have any concept of time. It will seem to them as though it has always been like this.”

Emma ponders this for a while, and watches the few other patrons go about their seemingly normal morning routine before asking her next question. “So what's the plan, Madam Mayor? We're going to go see this Rump--" she looks around and lowers her voice, "Mr Gold dude?”

"Yes, Miss Swan. He'll never share everything he knows, but we may discover a clue to his end goal, and from that deduce how we are best to proceed. He was, after all, the one who created the curse, for what purpose I do not know."

Ruby approaches with a tray in hand and places their take-away cups on the table. Regina hands her a bill and tells her to keep the change. The tall girl tucks the note into her cleavage with a smile. The bell over the door tinkling as they exit the diner, Emma, Regina and Henry walk down the street through the monotonous grey smog in the direction of the Pawnbroker's shop.

The shop is in sight when stops suddenly. “I left my backpack at Granny's!”

The vein on Regina's forehead bulges, but she keeps her voice calm. “We'll go back for it after we see Mr Gold.”

But Henry backs away. “The book is in it! I'll run and get it. It won't take long.” Regina reaches for him, but he's already off and running.

“Henry!” She calls after him.

Emma places her hand on her forearm. “It should be fine. It was what, like eight hours between the darkness... or whatever it's called... coming? It's only been, like, three. There shouldn't be another for a while yet.”

Reluctantly Regina allows Emma to guide her back toward the Pawnbroker's and they walk the remaining distance briskly, with only the occasional glance behind, hoping for a glimpse of the boy. The bell over the door rings as they enter, and Emma's eyes scour the shelves and cabinets, which are filled with far more interesting items than any pawn shop she'd ever been to before.

“Hello, dearies.” A thin man with straggly, dirty-blonde hair follows his voice from the back room. He quirks his head at the sight of Emma and grins wickedly. “My my my,” he says. “It has been a long time since we've seen a new face around here. Who might you be?”

Emma is a little taken aback at the subtle air of menace emanating from the short man, but she quickly recovers. “Emma Swan.”

A shiver courses through his body and the look of surprise on his face twists into a grin. He giggles triumphantly and taps his fingers together. “Emma Swan. The one and only.”

Regina places her hands on the counter top. “Yes, all hail your precious Savior. I take it that you remember now too, Rumple." His knowing smirk is reply enough, and she rolls her eyes. "Great. Now can you tell us what she has to do to break this curse? And what will happen when she does?”

He looks thoughtfully at the blonde. “You have already been made aware of the circumstances of your presence here, I take it?” She nods.

He twitches with excitement and speaks to Regina, although he can't seem to tear his eyes from Emma. “Only one thing is strong enough to break any curse, dearie. You know that.” His expression becomes more serious. "The prophecy is clear. The Savior will bring about the end of the darkness."

"And what will happen when I do?"

"The barrier around town will disappear and the townsfolk will be set free with their complete memories. The knowledge that your curse provided them will allow them to integrate into this world. However if the Savior dies before her job is done, the curse is reversed and everyone brought here by it will return to our world."

He turns and looks sharply at Regina. "Now you understand why I couldn't have you eliminate her before the curse was cast."

Emma looks at Regina, partly perplexed, partly horrified. The brunette solemnly looks down and licks her lips nervously.

"You also must ensure your other half does not achieve that goal now either, or young Henry will be left alone in this world with no memory of Storybrooke or anyone he ever knew here.”

Regina looks up at Rumple, her eyes wide, then catches and holds Emma's gaze.

The man taps his fingers together and watches his former apprentice somewhat fondly. He walks along behind the cash register and around the end of the counter, his cane clicking against the polished floor as he nears Regina. “You know, dearie. There may be another way to protect our dear Savior, to ensure your child isn't left completely alone without a clue who he is. But for that we will need our magic back.”

Regina notices Emma's eyebrows raise before she turns to her former mentor. “And how do you propose we do that, imp? This is the land without magic, after all.”

Rumple taps his cane on the floor. “Where there's a will there's a way!” He cackles. “All magic comes with a price, but I should think you will be willing to pay it for your son.”

Looking down her nose at the shopkeeper, Regina folds her arms across her chest. “What is the price?”

He shuffles forward, imposing on her personal space. “Your only friend, dearie. Your little pet. You see she has been keeping something safe inside her for a long time, something you will need to retrieve in order to bring magic to Storybrooke.”

Stepping back and catching Emma's eye, he points to a sheathed sword prominently on display nearby. “The Savior will need to use that sword to slay the dragon, and bring its treasure to me.”

Regina glares at Gold. “No deal, it's too dangerous! Risking her life in order against one threat to protect her life from another doesn't make any sense!"

"Magic must be brought to Storybrooke, Regina, before it's too late," he says unnervingly.

Regina leans forward, her face close to Rumple's. "Find another way,” she says firmly, and Emma hesitates to follow when Regina turns and stalks to the shop door.

“Miss Swan,” he says, his tone light and gay, and she pauses. He lifts the sword from the stand and hands it to her. "Take this. You never know when you may need it." 

Emma looks down at the ornate decoration on the scabbard, its gold trim of woven vines and flowers, its handle studded with jewels. She takes the offered weapon, nods, and leaves, the bell tinkling again when she closes the door behind her. She jogs to catch up to Regina, who had paused at the street corner to wait for her, and they begin walking back to the diner.

"Regina, if he says we need to--"

The brunette waves her hand dismissively. "It is far too dangerous, Miss Swan. I can't risk you dying and leaving Henry here alone. I won't allow it. That man always has his own motivations, I suggest you take nothing he says at face value."

As much as Emma wants to dispute it, she knows the area of magic and curses is very much Regina's area of expertise, so instead she walks quickly to keep up with the other woman's fast pace. There is no sign of Henry yet, although they both expected he would have returned by now.

Some pigeons flutter at the side of the road and launch themselves up into the air, startling the women. Regina's shoulder bumps into Emma's as she shies away from the sudden noise. The air chills instantly and the firehouse siren begins to wind up again as the sky darkens.

“Henry!” Regina gasps, and she breaks into a run with the blonde in hot pursuit. It gets harder to see as the fog thickens and the greyness of everything blurs together. As they pass Town Hall the sound of screeching metal draws their attention, and Emma grabs Regina's arm roughly, dragging them both to a halt as she spots the source of the unusual noise.

It is almost too dark to see, but a pudgy, light haired man runs out from a side-street on the opposite side of the road, as fast as his short legs can take him. Lurching behind is a giant hulk of a man, all muscle and broad, bare chest, with a massive and strangely triangular helmet and the largest sword either woman had ever seen. He drags it along the ground as though it is too heavy for him, although the blood splattered across the butcher's apron-like fabric wrapped around his waist and covering his legs indicated he is more than capable of wielding it. Flowing out all around him is a tide of large, squirming beetles. They swarm ahead and trip up the running man.

The two women scamper backwards and up the steps to Town Hall. Regina fumbles in her pocket for the keys, dropping them once before finding the correct one and jamming it into the lock. They surge inside as soon as the door opens, but stop just inside and watch in horror as the helmeted hulk lifts the much smaller man up by the throat, then with his other massive hand, rips the man's clothes off in one swift movement.

Somehow the man is still able to breathe, because he screams. The giant drops the clothing and reaches for the man's chest, grabbing and twisting his flesh, and in an instant his skin is torn from his body like a wetsuit.

The women freeze in shock as the creature turns in their direction, then hurls the skin at them. Emma slams the Town Hall door shut, but not quite in time to stop blood from spattering their clothing and faces. The wet sounding slap against the outside of the door turns their stomachs.

Breathing in shaky, shallow gasps, Emma hands Regina the flashlight and flicks on her own light, reclaimed from Henry and now clipped in its rightful place on her uniform. She looks around for something to jam the door shut, while the brunette disappears into the dark building.

Regina ran around a corner, heading for the staircase that would take her up to her office, but as she reaches the base of the stairs she hears an awful hissing and slurping sound coming from the room nearby which is currently being renovated. The beam of light from her torch shines on a human-like form, deformed and hideously mottled grey. Its feet are hogtied with barbed wire to it's throat, and it drags itself along the floor on it's stomach towards her. It knocks over a bench as it drags itself towards her, its movements speeding up the longer she watches, and from the toppled bench spills pails of paint and varnish. She screams and, without thinking, throws the flashlight at it as hard as she can.

The bulb smashes and sparks, and the pungent chemicals ignite. A fireball bursts through the room, and Regina holds her hands up to protect her face and feels herself falling backwards onto the stairs as a weight comes crashing down on top of her. The creature on the floor screeches and wails, and writhes on the floor in a blazing frenzy.

Regina tries to tug herself free but the weight of the scaffolding pinning her legs is too heavy for her to move. Emma skids down the hallway, and wrenches the steel framework pinning the woman down. Another container of toxic chemicals bursts into flames and she instinctively shields the other woman from the heat using her own body.

As the intensity dies down, Emma pushes herself up and looks around, her chest heaving. Regina clamps a hand onto Emma's forearm and her desperate eyes meet the younger woman's. “You're going to leave me, aren't you!” she shouts when Emma pulls her arm away and runs back down the hallway. Regina curses under her breath and resumes trying to free herself, although the angle is awkward and she has little leverage.

A wave of relief sweeps over her as the blonde returns at a jog a moment later with a fire extinguisher. The thick foam smothers the flames until again they are plunged into near-darkness, except for Emma's light. The twitching, squealing creature goes silent when Emma hits over the head with the heavy extinguisher. She steps over it and heads to the stairs, where she secures a tight grip with both hands onto the scaffolding that pins Regina down. With a mighty heave, she lifts it just high enough for the brunette to drag herself out from underneath before Emma drops and climbs over it, and hurriedly hoists Regina to her feet.

A loud crash followed by the metal scraping sound again, this time from inside the building, spurs them on faster. Regina slings an arm around Emma's shoulders as the taller woman holds her around her waist, and they clamber up the stairs as fast as they can.

Entering the Mayor's almost completely dark office, Regina slams and locks the door with the key. Emma watches the door, walking slowly backwards away from it, while Regina hobbles her to her desk by a combination of muscle memory and feel. She leans over it, feels around underneath the lip and pushes a button, and Emma whirls around as a door opens behind her, an amber emergency light glowing from within.

“You have a panic room?”

Regina didn't have time to answer as the glass of the office door smashes and beetles the size of small dogs swarm in. Regina lunges for the panic room but falls heavily as her injured leg fails to respond fast enough to her intention to run. The hard contact with the marble floor stuns her, and it takes a moment for her to become aware again of her surroundings.

Strong hands wrap around her outstretched wrists, and she screams and flails, suddenly aware of her desperate desire to avoid ending up a victim of Buffalo Bill's oversized zombie cousin.

She slides quickly across the floor and realises only when she is released that it is Emma dragging her to safety, flinging her into their sanctuary before slamming the heavy metal door shut. Regina only realises once inside that it was one of a pair of double doors, the other side already bolted closed from inside. She watches Emma push the locks into place to secure the door, but the main lock connecting the two doors seems to be jammed.

Looking down, Emma notices that a bug has made it into the small room with them, and it wriggles, stuck on it's back. The blonde stares at it, the damned thing staring back at her with some kind of intelligence. Her boot slams down on it a second later, and a mustard coloured liquid squirts from its flattened body. She leans against the doors, thighs bulging as she pushes back against the combined weight of the bugs piling against the doors and testing the smaller locks. “Regina!” she yelled. “Get the sword!”

Regina collects the sword, slung aside when they entered, slides it sheath and all through the door handles, preventing them from opening. The women back as far away from the door as they can get within the small room, both panting in exertion and fear as the ominous sound of metal on marble screeches from too close for comfort. The noise stops and the women remain silent, hoping their secret location won't be discovered.

Without warning, the wide blade pierces through the metal door like a warm knife through butter, and it extends across the entire space, almost to the back wall. Both women scream and fling themselves to the ground to avoid being sliced in half as the sword swings from side to side. “Stay down! Stay down!” Regina finds herself screeching in a most undignified manner. 

The blade is retracted, then thrust through again, doggedly seeking purchase in their flesh. “Jesus Christ!” Emma yells as the monster twists the blade, opening a wider hole in the door. The bugs pile through the freshly opened gap and teem around the floor of the panic room.

The blade pulls back again, then a huge, muscular arm reaches through the hole, aggressively grasping at the air, searching for them. Its fingers wriggle as it stretches and swings around trying to feel for any piece of them that it can. When the hulk realised he can't reach them he turns his attention to the door and begins tugging on the sword jammed in the door handles. Luckily his blade had bent the metal of the door inwards when it pierced through, and the peeling metal was holding the sword securely in place against his insistent jiggling.

Emma pulls out her gun and though she know it is dangerous to shoot in the enclosed space, the greater danger seemed to be the powerful beast possibly close to gaining entry. She fires multiple shots into the deathly greyish flesh of bulging muscle, scoring direct hits, but they have no effect whatsoever. She watches in horror as the bullet holes fail to yield any blood or slow his efforts at all.

Then, for no apparent reason, the massive hand pauses, releases the sword, and the arm is slowly pulled back out. The small room is filled only with the sounds of their heavy breathing, and they realise the siren has also stopped. The emergency lighting gives way to the regular white lighting as the fluorescent tubes spark back to life. The bugs on the floor stop moving, instead they crumble into dust, which floats up into the air and evaporates into nothing.

Regina and Emma look at each other in astonishment, and then at the door, which creaks and groans as the bent shards around the gaping hole left by the masked man mountain fold back into place, sealing as though they were never damaged to begin with. Emma steps forward and runs her palm across the smooth surface of the door. Cautiously, she removes the sword and opens the door. She steps back out into the office, gun at the ready. There is no sign of any bugs or the monster, and the office door is closed and locked how Regina had left it when they first entered, glass intact.

“You saw that, right? That was real?” Emma scours the room with incredulity, seeking but not finding anything that looks out of place. Regina slides her hand over the impeccably repaired door. “What the fuck is going on?” Emma shouts, adrenaline still running high and frustration and fear still coursing through her body.

“Get a hold of yourself, Miss Swan.” Regina husks, her voice thick with worry. “We need to find Henry.”

The officer puts the safety back on and re-holsters her weapon. “Are you alright? Can you walk?” She asks, gesturing towards the leg the other woman's noticeable limp.

The Mayor nods, “I believe it is only a quadricep contusion.” At the quizzical look on the blonde's face, she re-phrases her reply. “A so-called 'dead leg,' Miss Swan.”

“Oh, okay, Dr Mills. You could have just said that.” Emma whinges. She slings her arm around Regina and helps her to hobble out of the building.

* * *

Sunday, October 23, 2011 – 9:22am

The Mayor is light, but the distance they've covered while Emma has been leaning into the shorter woman to support her weight, has her slightly out of breath. They make it to the diner reasonably quickly, but as Emma guides Regina past the outdoor tables one of the chairs catches her in her sore leg.

Regina wrenches away from her and hops on the spot, reaching out for the offending chair with one hand to support herself while rubbing her bruised thigh with the other. “Ow! My leg! Can't you be more careful?!” 

“Really? You're complaining about one little bump after I save your life and then carry your ass all the way here?” Emma scowls. “Next time I should just leave you.” She stretches her back and cricks her neck before looking back at the grimacing, grumbling woman, though there’s a sadness in her eyes too. “No. You know what? Next time I'd do the same thing, and the time after that. Because that's what good-”

Henry bursts out of the diner and draws their attention away from glaring at each other. Granny observes them through the window for a moment, then offers them a small smile and retreats back into the diner.

“Henry!” Regina exclaims. “Thank God you're alright!”

“Mom!” He shouts and flings himself into her arms. She kisses the top of his head, her eyes glisten with emotion. "You should have seen it! Granny pulled a crossbow out from under the counter and locked us in the cool room. Then when it got really dark Ruby turned into a werewolf! An actual werewolf and she was like a humongous guard dog at the door!"

He grins up at Emma from his cosy position tucked in his mother’s embrace, while the blonde stands a little awkwardly off to the side, but his face drops when he sees the blood spatter on her shirt. He pulls away from his mother and notices the same pattern of spots on her blouse and how she’s favouring her left leg. “Did you get hurt?” 

Regina holds his shoulder and guides his face up with a finger under his chin. “No, dear! No, it's just a bruise, sweetheart.” She looks him in the eye, reassuringly. “We’re fine. The blood isn't ours.” 

“Whose is it?” He scrunches his face up, not sure if he really wants to know the answer.

His mother sighs and glances at Emma. “Happy's.”

Emma's eyes widen. “As in one of the seven dwarves?”

“Actually there were eight dwarves but Stealthy was killed saving Prince Charming.” Henry informs her before turning to his mother again. “Is he... is he dead?”

She nods sombrely and squeezes his shoulder.

A man approaches them from the street. “Hey buddy, you're home,” he says in a soft Irish accent. He's looking at Henry with a good-naturedly stern eyebrow raised. “You had us all very worried.”

Henry casually shrugs a shoulder. “It was worth it, Graham; I found my mom!”

Emma winces, and the man casts a bewildered look at Regina. “Your mom? What do you mean? She was here looking for you.”

Regina tilts her head toward the blonde. “Sheriff, this is Emma Swan. Henry's birth mother.” She says through gritted teeth.

The look of surprise on the man's face is quickly replaced by a smile. “It's a pleasure to meet you, Emma Swan.” He offers an outstretched hand, which she shakes and returns a small smile. “Fellow law enforcement, I see. Welcome to Storybrooke.”

“Yes, thank you.” He doesn't seem to blink an eye at the sword slung over her shoulder.

“Henry,” Regina turns to her son, “why don't you go inside and see if Granny has any cookies. I think we deserve one after the morning we've had.” The boy scampers happily up the stairs and she turns back to face the man.

"You remember yesterday, Graham?"

He frowns. "What do you mean? Henry running away? Yes, I remember."

"And before that?"

He looks up and his mouth twists as he thinks. "Nothing out of the ordinary."

Emma catches Regina's eye and they share a look. The blonde steps up and stands shoulder to shoulder with Regina. “Sheriff, we witnessed a death outside Town Hall this morning, but when went back outside there was only blood, no body.”

The man rubs the stubble on his chin. “Yes, we've found evidence of deaths occurring yesterday and this morning, but no bodies yet.”

“Do you know the approximate death toll?”

“Not really, we haven't had the time nor the manpower to visit everyone. The reports we've had though indicate there are at least seven missing people, plus whoever you saw this morning.”

“Mike Joy.” Regina contributes, which causes Emma to do a double take.

Graham nods. “Well I'd better get back out there."

Regina's posture straightens as the conversation comes to a close. "Thank you, Sheriff. One last thing; Mr Nolan and Ms Blanchard?"

"Not amongst the casualties. Nice to meet you, Emma,” he tips his head and steps backwards before turning.

“Likewise.” Emma replies, and she raises one hand to wave goodbye, the other she subconsciously lifts and hovers at the middle of the tense woman's back, briefly touching when Regina inhales and leans back slightly.

"Why is the Sheriff oh so casual about there being at least eight deaths in such a small town.”

Regina adjusts her weight on her bad leg. “It's the curse again. Things seem normal no matter how strange they actually are. Although time is moving forward now, and he remembers the people who died yesterday. That's not happened before.”

“No one remembers people who died before?”

“No one died before, Miss Swan, not until yesterday. But no one remembered any yesterdays before either. We're running out of time. he remembers yesterday," her eyes are dark and concerned when she looks at Emma, "but not before that. Not the Evil Queen. Not yet."

Emma purses her lips. “I'm still struggling to imagine you being evil."

"I was not a good person."

"You seem pretty good now." Regina swallows the lump in her throat when Emma's hand squeezes her arm. "He's lucky to have you. You're a good mom."

"I'm not," Regina starts, "I'm only the good part."

Emma smiles. "Yeah, but you're not a fake person. Even if you're the good part, you were always in her, even when she was doing bad things, right? You weren't completely evil, maybe you were just misunderstood?"

"Your mother may beg to differ." Regina rolls her eyes but they're crinkled at the corners even if her mouth isn't smiling.

Emma looks around and swallows. "They're here somewhere, huh? Are they those two you asked about?"

Regina nods. "Yes, although they don't know their relationship to each other here, or to you."

The silence hangs between them a moment and Emma scuffs the sole of her boot on the cobblestones. She looks up a moment later with a wry grin. "Seriously?” she said. “Happy's name was Mike Joy?”

The Mayor smiles back. “I couldn't sleep last night. I passed the time trying to remember who everybody is and connecting their cursed selves with their actual identities. It was been quite amusing, the imp does have a somewhat witty sense of humour. There are some I know that I know, but can't quite remember their true identities, I suppose my memories are returning but aren't quite complete yet.”

Inside the cafe they slide into a booth and Henry starts talking a million miles an hour about what Mr Gold and their mission.

"Maleficent has the True Love potion that Rumplestiltskin made Prince Charming hide inside her. You can use it to get your magic back. Won't it be easier to stop the darkness with your magic?"

Regina looks around, and despite a few patrons being within earshot, none seem to be paying any attention to the unusual conversation taking place. She waits until Mother Superior (who lives up to her name, an air of superiority wafting from her that makes Regina's skin crawl) walks past their table with a condescending smile and nod of her head. "Henry, if I get my magic back, so does my other half."

The boy frowns. "I still think it will be easier for you to defeat her if you have your magic. You're good, you can use light magic. Good always defeats evil." He drains the last drops of his second cocoa of the morning and slides out of the bench seat. "I need to go to the bathroom."

Emma waits until he has disappeared into the rear of the cafe before facing Regina again. "He doesn't know, does he. What will probably happen?"

"No," Regina admits, "he doesn't." She tears her serviette into tiny flakes.

"Do you think we should tell him? Prepare him? Let him say goodbye?"

The older woman shakes her head with certainty. "I... I can't."

Emma reaches across the table and places her hand atop Regina's, flattening the small mound of torn tissue. "We'll just have to hope that stopping her doesn't affect you." Regina's fleeting, tight smile conveys her appreciation at the sentiment, no matter how unlikely the possibility.

A few minutes later Regina casts a glance over Emma's shoulder. "He should be back by now." She drains the last of her coffee and stands. "I'll go and check on him."

She knocks on the door to the men's bathroom, and when there is no reply she opens the door. "Henry?" After still no answer she entered the small room and sees that the two stalls are empty. Her eye is drawn to a small pewter dragon ornament sitting on the edge of the sink. Dashing out into the main dining area she grabs Emma's hand with both of her own, "He's taken Henry!" her voice cracks, and she dragged the blonde out into the street.

Emma almost has to trot to keep up with the fast-limping, muttering woman in front of her, despite her height and leg-length advantage. The weight of the sword she carries puts her a little off her stride.

“That bastard imp! Manipulating, lying bastard imp! I can't let my guard down for one second without him screwing me over again.” she growls as she strides along Main Street. Her fury seems to have muted any pain she is feeling from her bruised muscle.

Finally finding the right gait length to maintain a side-by-side pace, Emma pushes for answers. “Gold? Where do you think he has hidden him? And why?”

Regina's eyes stay dead ahead. “The library basement. The curse left Maleficent imprisoned down there. The imp wants his magic back and to do that,” she spat, “he needs something from her that I refused to get. He took Henry to force me to do his dirty work.”

“Bastard,” Emma agrees. "That's the true love potion Henry was talking about?"

Regina gives the library doors a mighty shove, and they bang as they hit the doorstops and bounce back to slam closed behind the women. She walk to a feature wall and presses, and Emma steps back, startled as the wall slides across, revealing a complex panel of buttons and lights and the open cavity of an elevator shaft. Regina presses some of the buttons, frowning when nothing happens, then curses when she notices cut wires protruding from an open switchboard near the ground.

Furious, she kick the bottom of the panel. Slender fingers raked through thick, dark hair, nails digging into her scalp, before removing her hand and placing it on her hip as she paces side to side across the front of the shaft. “I don't understand why he's making it so hard for us to do this. How are we supposed to get down there now?”

Emma steps forward, placing one foot on the edge of the open doors and grips a sturdy handle on the panel before leaning slightly into the abyss. “How far down is the basement? It's too dark to see.”

Regina crosses her arms. “Four or five stories, give or take.”

“We passed a sporting equipment store, didn't we?” Emma asks, backing away from the drop Regina stops pacing momentarily to nod at her with a confused expression. “Excellent. Hold this,” Emma hands her the sword, “I'll be back.”

Regina watches the blonde run out the door, and when she's out of sight she turns her attention to the sword in her hands. It's weight somewhat surprises her, being used to holding nothing larger than a dagger herself, as she would have uses her magic instead to wield anything much heavier in the past. The white and gold scabbard is beautifully decorated with vines and flowers, and she has to admit it is quite stunning.

Her eyebrow raises when she recognizes the hilt, and she remembers this being the sword that Charming threw at her the day she interrupted his wedding to Snow White. It had lodged in the wall of her bedchamber when she had transported. She had placed it in her trophy room along with other items won in battles that she had for some reason felt inclined to keep, although she never visited the room other than to add to the collection. She narrows her eyes, wondering what else the Dark One had pilfered from her by way of the curse.

The doors swing open again and jar her from her thoughts, and the officer bounds in carrying a bundle of straps in one hand and a long coil of rope in the other. She unceremoniously dumps them on the floor.

“What on earth...?”

Emma grins and hurriedly sorts the equipment on the floor. “When I was a teenager, one of the group homes I was in had an outreach program at an orienteering camp, and I was lucky enough to get to go. They taught us about rock climbing and abseiling.” She shimmied a canvas strap harness up her denim-clad legs and tightened the straps around the tops of her thighs and her waist, and loosened the clasps on the carabiners attached to the loops.

Regina gestures to the other harness on the floor. “You expect me to put that on? And go down there too?”

A burst of air rushes out of Emma as she scoffs at the implication. “Regina, you trapped a so-called-friend in a basement for 28 years, and she might not be very happy to see you but she has your son. So yes, you're going down with me.”

The brunette rubs her palms up and down her biceps, subconsciously comforting herself, and her eyes wander to the open elevator doors. “I... I don't like the dark. Or heights.”

Emma bends and picks something up out of the pile of equipment on the floor. Smiling, she stretches an elastic strap and places a headlamp on the concerned woman, squinting her eyes as she switches it on and her own face is bathed in light. “How's that?”

She doesn't receive a response, but it doesn't matter. Emma is too busy gathering the other harness. She holds the right straps together and places it on the floor in front of the Mayor. “Step into this.” Regina places a hand on the crouching blonde's shoulder for balance and steps first one foot and then the other into the canvas loops, grateful she dressed in pants today, along with comfortable, low-heeled boots.

Emma slides the harness up, but bumped the woman's thigh without thinking. She flinches as the brunette slaps her hand away and hisses in pain.

“Ow!” Emma shakes her hand to ease the sting of the slap, dropping the harness on that side. “Sorry! I forgot.”

“Don't forget again.” The Mayor growls. Emma very carefully helps her to pull the harness all the way up over her bruise, and she waits while Regina adjusts her trousers before she tightens the straps.

Regina collects the sword from the reception desk where she had left it while Emma puts on her own headlamp and ties one end of the rope around a support beam inside the elevator shaft. “Ready?” She asks, swinging back down into the library lobby.

“As I'll ever be, I suppose,” Regina replies, raising the sword up in the air and looping the leather strap over Emma's head and one arm. She tightens it, quite a bit, given that the woman is much smaller than her broad-shouldered father, and she obviously has no idea how to wear it properly.

Emma accepts the weapon, and wriggles a little at how much more comfortable it feels. “I do still have my gun, you know. And I have no idea how to sword-fight.”

“I don't know how effective bullets will be against a dragon." The mayor walks around the other woman to face her. "This is your father's sword.” She cast her gaze down the deputy's form. A slight blush warmed the blonde's cheeks. “You appear strong enough to wield it. Let's hope the skill comes naturally, although he threw it at me like javelin once.” There is a sparkle in her eye. "Obviously he missed."

With a chuckle, Emma busies herself by attaching and tying off the rope through the carabiners on both of their harnesses. “Wait... when you say dragon, please tell you mean she's just a crazy-angry lady?”

“That she likely is, Miss Swan. But she is also in dragon form right now.”

The officer gapes, her head slowly shaking back and forth. “She's a dragon? An actual dragon! When were you planning on telling me this exactly?”

“I just did.”

Emma sighs in frustration. “Fine. You'll go first,” she said, “you'll be a few feet below me, I'll control the rate of descent.”

Regina swallows. “We're climbing down the ladder, though, aren't we?”

“Abseiling will be faster and easier. Climb down the ladder, but once I'm in the shaft just sit back in the harness as though it's a chair with your feet against the wall of the shaft and hold onto the rope, we'll walk down.” She placed her hand on the obviously-nervous woman's shoulder to reassure her. “It'll be fine. Trust me.”

Once in the shaft, Regina refuses to let go of the ladder, and instead climbs down it while Emma relaxedly hangs next to her, descending smoothly at the same rate, safe in the knowledge the brunette would fall only a few feet until the rope caught if she happens to slip at any point.

Their boots echo on the roof of the elevator when they reach the bottom, and Emma unhooks them from the rope. She pries open the roof access panel with a pocket knife. The car is empty, and peering through she can see that the roller door has been left half way up, more than enough of a gap for Henry to fit through. Lowering herself in, she holds her weight on her arms until they're at full extension, then bends her legs as she hits the ground to absorb as much of the impact and therefore the noise as she can. Listening and hearing nothing, she looks up at Regina through the hole and gestures for her to follow.

Regina sits on the edge of the access point, her legs dangling through, and as she dropped down further, Emma wrapped her arms around her legs, aware of the brunette's bruise that she wouldn't dare forget about again but unable to avoid pressing it. She lowers the other woman to the ground softly, then unclips the gun holster and draws her sword. “Stay behind me,” She whispers, and Regina nods.

Cautiously they duck under the grill and exit the elevator car, stepping into the cavernous space. Their boots crunch over the gravelled floor and their headlights cast a beam through smoky looking air, although as with the foggy smoke up on the surface, it has no smell.

The area opens out, the roof up above them high out of reach of their headlamp beams. Various objects are scattered about, all covered in a thick layer of dust, and some broken in pieces. They walk towards a large object in the middle of the path in front of them, Emma initially thought it was a rock, but as they approach, she can see the leadlight glass patterned top. She recognised it from Henry's book. “This looks like... Is this Snow White's coffin?” She whispers.

Regina nods, then gently pushes her onwards, all the while looking around for her son. Emma lays a hand against the wall as she passes through the narrow gap next to the coffin, only to feel the wall move away from her.

“What the hell!” She exclaims, stumbling backwards, her arm outstretched protectively across in front of Regina. Their backs hit side of the coffin and they watch as what they thought was the wall unfolds, rears back, screeches and expels a blast of fire high across the roof of the cave. Emma holds the sword out in front of her ineffectually, almost whimpering with the shock of what her eyes are seeing.

“She's your friend, can't you do something?” Emma shouts over her shoulder.

“I doubt it. There's no magic here which means she's all dragon,” Regina shouts back.

The dragon shrieks again and Emma looks at the sword. “To hell with this!” She flings it to the ground and draws her gun. She fires three shots, three direct hits, but they do nothing except anger the creature. They turn and run, both women wrenching off their headlamps and throwing them on the ground. Regina hides behind a rock near the elevator, Emma runs a little further and presses her back to a large stone pillar.

She feels the heat of the flames scorching through the air above her, feels the ground vibrating as the dragon pounds around the now seemingly tiny, enclosed space. Emma peeps around the pillar and watches as it turns and drops down over a ledge that she hadn't been able to see before, disappearing from sight. Slowly she emerges from her shelter, creeps across the cave and peers over the edge, but all she can see is a smoky fog stretched out below her. There seems to be a pale bluish light coming from somewhere, but she can't tell where.

Regina approaches from behind her. “Where's the sword?”

Emma looks across the space to where she had dropped it, and at that moment the dragon reappears out of the fog and roars. She runs as fast as she can across the space and picks up the sword, spinning on the spot, relieved to see the dragon is watching her and ignoring Regina, who is backing away slowly. In the light of the dragon's breath Emma catches a glimpse of the far edge of the area where there appears to be more objects and what she thinks is an arm.

When Regina looks at her, Emma points, and in her panic, Regina blows her cover by calling out her son's name. The dragon spots her, rears up, and roars again.

“Hey!” Emma shouts, heaving the sword up and over behind her head. Letting out a guttural cry she hurls the sword with all her might, and it flies across the expanse and lodges in the glowing belly of the beast. The dragon turns to embers before her eyes, it's body, it's outstretched wings, all disintegrating into glittering orange flecks spilling out and bursting into the dark, foggy air. She shelters her face with her arms and runs to Regina, and she spreads her leather jacket out like protective wings over top of them both when she reaches her side. They scramble around the rock ledge in the direction of Henry's body.

The room turns quiet as the ashes and embers rain down around them, then came the sound of something metal clanging against rock and a metal ball rolls across the floor. It falls open, a bottle of glowing liquid visible inside.

Emma reaches for the glowing bottle nearby and tucks it in her jacket pocket. She doesn't trust the smug little man, but she didn't kill a dragon just to leave it's hidden treasure down here. When they reach Henry, he's lying next to a spinning wheel, seemingly unharmed until Regina turns his hand over and there is a spot of blood on his fingertip.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me! A sleeping curse?” Regina runs her hand through her hair. She shakes Henry again, trying to wake him. She presses her finger to his neck. “Henry? Oh god, Henry!” she cries. “There's no magic here, Emma.”

Emma stiffens. “You mean...” She watches soft hands stroke the boy's face. “No, there's no magic but there's better medical equipment. Take your harness off!” She barks. Lifting Henry's limp body off the dusty ground she charges back to the elevator. Regina appears with harness in hand just as Emma is starting to wonder if she'd have to go back for her, and she holds it out to the blonde who slides it up Henry's legs and tightens it.

“I'll give you a lift up, then pass him up to you.” She interlocks her fingers and crouches down a little. Regina places a hand on her shoulder and her foot in Emma's hands. “On three. One, two, three.” She made it waist-high up through the panel before Emma's grip changed and pushed her most of the rest of the way. Almost before she could turn and brace herself, Henry's limp body was within reach and with a grunt, she manages to lift him up through the access panel. She lowered him carefully onto the roof, and two hands appeared at the edge of the gap. With some clanging and scrabbling of feet on the interior walls, the back of Emma's head appears. Regina braces her feet and grabs hold of the leather strap across the cop's body and a fist full of jacket, and helps to haul her up.

Emma loosens the strap of the sword scabbard and sat in front of the boy, her back to him and she clips the front carabiner of his harness directly to the back of her own. Regina starts to help when she sees what Emma is trying to do, and loops the boy's arms through the leather scabbard strap, effectively hitching him to the blonde's back.

They look up the dark passage above them, a dim light far up above them coming in from the open doors. Emma grabs the rope and attaches it to her harness. “Stay here.” She looked directly into terrified brown eyes, “I _will_ come back for you.” She squeezes the other woman's hand and smiles reassuringly before she begins the long climb up the narrow ladder.

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

Sunday, October 23, 2011 – 10:34am

The old truck rumbles to a stop outside Granny's, the engine sputters slightly as it is switched off. The driver's door opens and legs swing out, the diver slipping off the seat and falling just a little until her feet hit the asphalt. The door groans in protest and is slammed it shut, and the driver runs her fingers through her short hair.

Her hiking boots clunk across the linoleum as she walks to the counter. She scours the familiar faces of the people in the diner, those whose eyes she caught smile politely at her. The young waitress exits the kitchen and walks up to the register. “Good morning!” She greets cheerfully, and for a moment the woman's breath hitches. "How are you today, Mary-Margaret?"

Her body sags in disappointment at the lack of recognition in her friend's eyes. “Hello Ruby.” She says, strangely emphasising the girl's name.

Ruby squirms a little at the unusual interaction, although she isn't quite sure why she feels uncomfortable. “What can I get for you?”

“Actually, I was looking for Mayor Mills. I tried her at home and Town Hall but can't seem to find her. You wouldn't happen to know where she might be, would you?”

The tall, young brunette's eyebrows raise slightly. “Mayor Mills? She was in here earlier with her son and the new officer, although I'm not sure where they went, sorry.”

A gentle voice interrupts the women. A tall man with dark blond hair steps up to the counter, having come from the bathrooms at the back of the diner. “Sorry, Miss Blanchard. I couldn't help but overhear. I saw the Mayor and her blonde friend go into a the library a little while ago.” He smiles, his eyes crinkling in the corners and fixed on Mary-Margaret, and her heart leaps in her chest.

She scans his face fondly, sadly, and clears her throat. “David..." she says, almost questioningly. He looked at her quizzically, but she can tell he isn't aware yet. "Thank you," she says softly. "Say hello to Kathryn for me."

The bell over the door clangs when she quickly retreats out into the greyed out courtyard. Ruby looked up to her friend, but he doesn't look back. He watches instead, with a confused expression, as the schoolteacher climbs back into her truck and drives away.

* * *

Sunday, October 23, 2011 – 10:41am

Reaching out to her left, she wraps her hand around the edge of the open door and uses the rope to swing herself around into the foyer, Henry's deadweight on her back. She scrambles for purchase on the smooth linoleum, loosens the rope to give her more distance from the edge, and sprawls on the floor on her knees. Breathing heavily and sweating profusely, she unbuckles the belt around her chest holding Henry against her, and carefully lowers him to the floor. She tears off her jacket and throws it aside, and unbeknownst to her, the small bottle rolls out of the pocket.

The library door opens as she unhitches Henry's harness and pulls it off him. She looks up and freezes at the sight of a woman she was not expecting to see.

“Emma?”

It is her, the woman from Henry's book, the smiling, pixie-faced woman holding the tiny bundle of a baby wrapped in a white blanket, 'Emma' stitched in purple ribbon on the side. The same blanket she had managed to keep through countless foster homes, the same blanket now in her apartment in Ellsworth. She nods slowly.

The woman cautiously approaches her and drops to her knees. She reaches forward hesitantly and cupped Emma's face in her hands, tears in her blue-grey eyes. "Oh Emma, I knew you'd come!"

Emma shakes herself from the surreal moment, and with a gentle touch to the woman's wrist, she pulls away. “Please, you need to take him to the hospital, he's under a sleeping curse but we don't know what it does in this world since there is no magic,” she says hurriedly, re-attaching her own harness now that she could go straight back down. “I have to go back for Regina. Please!”

A disembodied voice echoes out of the shaft behind them “Who are you talking to?”

Snow White strokes her hand through the boy's hair, then feels for a pulse. She looked at the boy and her lips open when she realises that she remembers him growing up, the only one of her students who had. She also remembers that he hadn't been there in the early years of the curse, he came later. Her voice wavers as she asks, “He's not from our world, is he? Emma, who is Henry?”

“Miss Swan?” Regina's voice echoes again.

Emma steps up to the open doors and tightens the rope. She leans back into the abyss and sits back into the harness. “He's my son.”

“What?!” she hears her mother -- her mother! -- exclaim as she pushes off the wall and disappears from sight.

Snow looks with new eyes at the boy she had taught for the past few years. She traces her finger over his chin, his cheek, then frown a little and rubs a glittery dust from his nose. Her fingertips tingle and she draws a breath, then shakes herself from her daze as she remembers her daughter's plea to take him to the hospital.

The whizzing sound echoes through the shaft as Emma rappels down as fast as she can. She stops about 30 feet from the bottom, just above the Mayor's position on the ladder.

“Who has Henry?” Regina demands, panting for air, her arms quivering from the effort of climbing the long, completely vertical ladder. “Who is up there?”

“He's on his way to the hospital, stop being an idiot and let me get this harness on you. You'll kill yourself if you fall from this height.” Emma unhooks the second harness from her own and bunches the straps together. She awkwardly tries to prop her leg against a beam to stop from swinging back toward the center of the shaft while still trying to hold the harness at the right place for Regina to put her feet through.

“What do you mean? Who has him?” Regina asks, wrapping an arm around the ladder and grabbing a fistful of Emma's shirt to help to hold her in place.

“Snow White.” Emma grunts a few times with the effort, and accidentally mashes her cheek into the woman's hip, but eventually manages tighten the straps and breathes a sigh of relief. She climbs up past her, and until the rope connecting the two women grew taut. “Alright, climb,” Emma gritted, and set a gruelling pace. She feels the rope tighten about twenty feet from the top as her companion slows. Digging deep, and with her muscles burning, Emma continues, using her own strength to help haul Regina up the home stretch.

Finally back in the library foyer, Emma loosens the straps on Regina's harness and she steps out of it. “Go, I'll catch up,” Emma puffs, and Regina doesn't hesitate. She runs out onto the street and down towards the hospital on pure adrenaline.

Emma frees herself from her own harness and runs after Regina, catching up to her as she nears the Hospital front entrance. The nurse at the desk stands as the pair burst through the doors, and without a word she points upstairs. “Emergency, Level 2,” she says as the two women jog past and slam open the door to the staircase, Emma taking the lead and Regina hot on her tail.

Dr Whale opens the door to exit from to the hospital room and holds it for Mother Superior, as Emma and Regina burst into the corridor. He lets it swing closed behind him, and says sadly with a small shake of his head, "We did everything we could."

The nun looks at Emma with large, solemn eyes, and sinks her hands into the large pockets of her navy blue coat. "I'm sorry, you're too late."

Emma finds herself walking forward, her mind blank and disbelieving, and the doctor and nun part to let her through. She enters the room where Henry lays on the hospital bed, and his pale body looks far too tiny for the size of it. Regina follows Emma, then passes her when Emma stops near the end of the bed. A young nurse switches off the heart monitor. The flat-lining monitor. She removes the oxygen mask from Henry's face then steps away to give the women some space.

“It's magic, right? Just a sleeping curse?” The blonde asks, her voice tight and raspy, thick with emotion.

Regina shakes her head ever so slightly, her hand pressed flat and firm against her stomach. “There is no magic here.”

Emma's vision blurs as tears flood her eyes. A shuddering sob erupts from the woman in front of her, but the blonde remains frozen to the spot. Her vision clears momentarily as tears break free and streak clear lines down her face, dirty and smudged with grey.

She watches his mother step closer, a hand clamped over her mouth to hold back the inevitable cries. She reaches out with her other hand and strokes her son's hair and fixes his part. Her shoulders shake with the effort of containing her emotion and Emma's eyes sting as more tears stream from them.

The sandy-haired doctor steps in and reaches out to Regina, but he is stopped by a firm grasp on his forearm. Emma shakes her head at him, he closes his mouth and steps away. Emma hears him speaking to someone behind her, but she isn't really paying attention. She slowly steps forward and tentatively reaches out, placing a hand on Regina's shoulder.

Regina removes her hand from over her mouth and places it on her boy's stomach, moving her thumb to rub gently on the sheet covering his belly. A tear falls from her cheek to his own as she leans down. "I love you, Henry," she whispers and kisses his forehead.

A wave of energy blasts through them, a shockwave that, rather than being painful, feels like peace and joy. She shifts, her green eyes meeting Regina's brown ones, wide with surprise. They both looked to Henry as he stirs, gasps, and his hazel eyes open wide and he blinks a few times before focusing on Regina. “Mom?”

Regina strokes his face, feeling him as though she can't believe he is real, and he smiles widely. "I love you too."

Emma feels all her emotions explode within her, and without an outlet she merely gapes and gasps breaths like a fish out of water. To see her son lying there, dead in front of them, everything he was and would be ripped from him, to being alive and awake and smiling at his mom. It is too much. A hand presses on her shoulder, and she presumes it is the nun, the nurse or the doctor, none of whom she knows nor wishes to take comfort from, so she shakes it off and turns on her heel to expel some of her pent up energy on whoever dared to touch her.

It wasn't any of them. The knowing grey-blue eyes wrinkle in the corners as the woman smiles. Emma stills as the other woman closes the small distance between them and wraps her arms around the stunned blonde. Emma relents, allows herself to be hugged, but pulls away after a moment when she hears movement behind her. She turns and the two brunette women face each other.

“Hello Regina.”

Regina tenses, still clutching onto Henry for dear life. She stares back at the teacher who used to cower from her and she knows this is not Mary-Margaret Blanchard. She swallows. “Snow.”

The doctor rests his hands on the end of the bed. He leans forward, his eyes flaring with an intensity that hadn't been there earlier. He doesn't even seem surprised that his previously dead patient is peeling the sticky pads from the heart monitor off his own chest.

“Regina,” he says, his voice low and menacing.

She looks at him and then at the nurses. Two take a step back and one flees the room. The nun is nowhere to be seen. She shivers, then turns her hand palm up and looks at it. “Oh no.” She concentrates hard and wiggles her fingers slightly. After a moment looks at Emma with a mixture of fear and relief.

“They all remember now, don't they?” Emma says, not as a question as she already knows the answer.

Regina doesn't respond, her lips press tightly together and the vein in her forehead pulses. Quickly and quietly Emma moves to Henry and helps him remove the last of the adhesive stickers, unhooking him completely from the machines. She wraps the sheet around him and lifts him up in her arms, ignoring the pain of her muscles protesting after all they'd already endured.

With the boy in her arms she asks her new-found mother. “Do you have a car here?”

The short-haired woman nods, “Yes, parked in the ambulance bay.” She gestures to the door and Emma moves to leave. Snow White looks at Dr Whale and a chill runs down her spine at the rising tension in the room. She turns and reaches out to her nemesis, who seems and has seemed for the entire span of the curse to be much more the kind-hearted girl she first met in a field than the fearsome enemy she became later. “Come on, Regina.”

Emma climbs into the back seat of the old truck, Regina climbs in the other side and lifts Henry's feet onto her lap. He's alive, but he's weak and tired. He sighs and closes his eyes, safely surrounded by his family.

The engine revs and the truck lurches out of the ambulance bay and onto the street. As they near Granny's on Main Street a man jumps out from behind a parked car and Snow slams on the brakes. The front passenger door is wrenched open and the man climbs quickly in. He grabs Snow's face with both hands and smiles with such joy in his face. “I found you," he exclaims, and his true wife, his true love, grins widely. Regina scoffs from the back seat.

They press their lips together in an intense yet chaste kiss that goes on far too long for the comfort of the passengers. Emma clears her throat and the pair break apart. “Close the door.” Snow says, and Charming pulls it shut behind him, grinning at her like the Cheshire cat. The truck leapt forward as Snow accelerates, grateful she has an automatic as she uses her free hand to clutch tightly onto her husband's with thirty years worth of need, letting go only to take the turn onto Mifflin.

Charming twists around in his seat, his eyes pausing on Regina before glancing at Henry and then settling on Emma. Tears spring to his eyes as he recognizes the blend of his and his wife's features on the blonde. “Emma,” he said reverently. “You did it.”

Her head is still swimming with all the events of the morning and she licks her dry lips, brow wrinkled. She shrugs a shoulder non-committally. “Actually, I think Regina did it,” she says with a small smile, and looks across at the brunette sitting at the other end of the rear bench seat. David's eyebrows rise, and he takes another look at the former queen, this time with more confusion, and more caution.

“Charming,” she greets, dryly.

Henry stirs and opens his eyes. “Grandpa!”

Charming's jaw drops, and he looks quizzically at Emma. The blonde shrugs with one shoulder and offers an apologetic smile. “Henry's my birth-son. Regina adopted him.” He stares between the women, mouth still agape, his brain trying to piece together what had happened while he was oblivious during the curse.

His hand reaches around the seat and grabs the leather as Snow once again slams on the brakes. “Dammit, Snow!” Regina hisses, holding onto Henry's feet and bracing against the back of Charming's seat with her knee.

She throws the truck in reverse and slings her arm around Charming's seat as she backs up at speed, and reverses into a driveway. The three other adults look ahead up the street where they had been headed to see a mob forming in front of the large, white mansion at number 108. “Oh shit.” Emma murmurs.

“Language, Miss Swan!” Regina growls, and Henry grinned, his eyes opening, but his expression changing as he saw the seriousness on the adults' faces.

Snow spins around, “Where else?”

Regina hesitates before responding with a sigh. “The cemetery.”

Tires squeal as the truck peels out of the driveway, a puff of black smoke of unburnt fuel dissipates from the exhaust. The noise catches the attention of a person hanging around the edge of the gathering crowd. Ruby watches the teacher's truck disappear back down the street, and she quietly abandons the pack to dart through the yards of Regina's neighbours as she takes a shortcut through the suburb.

Regina directs Snow past the main gate up to the rear parking lot, and they pulled up next to some low bushes which should shield the vehicle from the sight of anyone entering through the main gates. Snow retrieves her bow and quiver full of arrows from the back of her truck while Charming carries Henry to the Mills Family mausoleum. Regina unlocks the door and ushers everyone in before closing the door behind them, but she fails to notice the lanky brunette jogging along the tree-line.

It is dark inside with the door shut, and cramped with the five of them in the small space. Regina stands to one side of her father's sarcophagus and gestures with her hand for Snow to move away from the other side. She began to push it, Emma giving her a hand once it begins to move across the floor, exposing a staircase down into the vault.

At the foot of the stairs, the group behind her, she waves her hand through the air, then sighs exasperatedly. She strides up to the bookshelf and picks up a matchbook, and walks around lighting the candles in the main room.

Charming sits Henry down on the sofa off to the side, and unbuttons his own shirt. He drapes the large garment around the small boy, and rolled up the sleeves. It is ridiculously oversized, but better than the sheet. Snow takes off her woollen sweater and slipped it on over the boy's head, again bunching up the sleeves, though it fit a little better than his grandfather's plaid shirt.

“So the townspeople know who you are then.” Emma says, breaking the silence and returning the focus to their predicament.

Regina stands in the corner of the room, her arms are folded and she's shifting her weight from side to side uncomfortably. “Apparently so. And they are not happy.”

Snow pats Henry's arm, ruffles his hair while he fights to stay awake, and she stands. Regina ducks out through the doorway and Emma follows, leaving Charming sitting beside his grandson. He tilts his head to indicate his wife should follow the women.

Snow steps into the empty hallway and quietly approaches the archway at the opposite end, where flickering candlelight casts two shadows against the stone wall. As she rounds the corner, she's surprised to find Emma holding Regina in her arms, although the brunette stiffens and pulled away when she notices her former prey standing in the doorway.

"Snow," she says quietly.

"Regina," the younger brunette replies coolly. "I'm surprised you haven't magicked me into a dungeon, or onto a pyre yet."

The former queen rolls her eyes. "There is no magic here, otherwise, maybe I would have."

"Stop it," Emma growls, and although she can sense there isn't much malice in any of it, she watches the two former enemies scowl at each other.

Snow speaks. "So why are we still here? Why didn't the curse break when Emma returned, or when we got our memories back?"

"Snow, I haven't... I haven't broken it yet." Emma says.

"Do you know how to?"

Regina and Emma share a glance, and Regina walks to the other side of the small room. Emma joins her mother and speaks quietly to ensure Henry doesn't hear down the hall. "When Regina cast the curse, it split her up and put all her pain and anger into, well it became someone else. That part of her is imprisoned beneath the town, and we think somehow she is causing fires in the mines that are causing this ash to fall, and she's bringing the darkness and monster... things. Regina thinks for the curse will break I'll have to kill her."

Snow glances over at Regina. "Will that send us home?"

"No, but it will free you," Regina says softly. At Snow's frown, she crosses her arms over her chest.

"We won't go home?" Snow reaches for Emma's hand as the realisation sets in that she won't be returning to her kingdom any time soon. "Dammit, Regina!"

"It's okay, Snow. Your daughter will avenge the wrongs I have done to you."

Emma's head whips around. "You know it's not like that, Regina."

"What is she talking about?" Snow asks.

The blonde pulls her hand away and runs it through her mane. "Killing her other half, well, we figure it will probably kill Regina as well. They're two halves of a whole."

Snow crosses her arms as well, and her back straightens. "Innocent people are dying out there every time these monsters come to life, so if that's what needs to be done, you need to do it Emma. It's what a hero would do." She catches Regina's eye, and there's a deep sadness, but it is overwhelmed by the determined set of her jaw.

Emma paces across the floor like a caged animal. "No, it's not right. There has to be another way!" She stops in front the woman, supposedly her flesh and blood, and struggles to understand how she could be so heartless. "She's not dying."

A hand touches Emma's bicep and pulls her out of her confrontational stance. "She's right, Miss Swan. There isn't another way. It's going to be okay. You're going to be okay. You need to do this, and you need to save Henry. You know what will happen if you don't."

Emma attempts to swallow the lump in her throat, and she stares down her mother as Regina leaves them both to rejoin her son, probably for the last time. 

* * *

Sunday, October 23, 2011 – 11:44am

"Are you okay?" Emma asks as the truck rattles to silence in the parking lot. Regina scowls at her and releases her seatbelt. Emma cringes. "I mean, I know you must feel--"

"You have no idea how I feel," Regina snaps.

"You're right, I don't. But giving up your kid, knowing you'll never see him again? I kinda have some idea about that."

The brunette climbs out of the cab and slams the door, but when she glances again at Emma her expression is softer. Emma trots to catch up. They avoid the main entrance of the hospital this time and enter instead through the side door in the designated smoking-area courtyard.

The halls are deserted, and they creep as fast as they can through the corridors. Regina stops at an unmarked door and punches a code into the keypad next to it, the lock snicks and the handle turns under her hand. Emma takes one last look around before ducking in behind her.

The pair descend a dimly lit staircase and Emma peers over the counter to an abandoned desk, the lamp still illuminated, ink still wet on the half-completed form.

Regina leads her past a number of doors, and she startles as a grinning face appears in one of the small, wire-reinforced windows near the end. Long fingernails scrabble at the glass and the unkempt man laughs. "What the hell is this place, Regina?"

"Some people aren't safe to be around, even with a new persona," she replies. She continues walking to the end of the hallway then turns the handle of another door, then tries again when it doesn't open. "Damn it," she grumbles.

"Here, I got this," Emma smiles, and guides her away from the door with a gentle tug on her bicep. She braces herself and kicks, and the frame splinters as the door bursts open. The corridor they're standing in is dim, but it seems bright compared to the almost complete blackness on the other side of the door. Emma turns on the lamp clipped to her uniform and feels for the one on her belt before she remembers it being broken at the town hall earlier.

She and Regina glance at each other nervously.

"She's down here?"

Regina nods.

Emma walks to the doorway and the light shines against the wall, patchy and dark with mildew. "How do you know?" 

"I spent a long time in this town before Henry came along and took up my time and attention, and I had access to all the city maps. I know this town, I've been everywhere." She wets her lips and joins Emma in the doorway. "I never came down here though. I... I got as far as this once, but... I can feel her. I didn't know what that feeling was back then, but it terrified me."

They stand side-by-side for a moment, then Regina takes a breath and walks through the door and into the disused tunnel. Emma follows, her hand on her gun, despite knowing she has only one bullet left, and adjusts the strap of her new sword, this one from Regina's collection.

* * *

Sunday, October 23, 2011 – 11:46am

The heavy door opens with a creak and the woman steps into the immaculate mausoleum. She looks around for another door, another clue, then she spots the scratch marks on the floor. With a heave, she pushes the coffin and the whole thing moves sideways and exposes a staircase, at the bottom of which stands Prince Charming holding out a short, curved sword.

He relaxes when he sees who it is. "Charming," she grins.

Another face pops around the corner. "Red!" Snow climbs the stairs hurriedly while the waitress' long legs take her down, and they embrace. "I've missed you!"

"I've missed you too!" Red exclaims, and holds Snow at arms' length, soaking in the warmth of the shorter woman's beaming smile. Then she senses someone else and her eyes dart around and fall on Henry, sleeping soundly in a cot in a room off to the side.

"What's going on? What are you guys doing down here? I saw Regina and Emma leave. Are you imprisoned?"

With a quick glance to check that the boy is still sleeping, Snow guides the girl down to the main chamber of the vault, and she tells her the story.

Red had sensed something different about the queen. She had met her in the Enchanted Forest, she had felt the precariousness of her sanity, but buried deep down inside all the layers of armour, Red still felt her bruised and battered heart. Here in Storybrooke that heart, trying to heal, was far closer to the surface.

"We should go to the Blue Fairy," Snow says.

Charming places his hand on her shoulder and rubs. "Emma asked us to stay here with Henry. We'll be safe here, she thinks, if the darkness comes again."

"David, we don't even know if they'll make it out alive. If anyone can help, it's Blue. She said she would help the prophecy to be fulfilled and fairies can't lie."

He grimaces at his wife. "But Emma--"

"David," Snow grins, "we'll be safe with Blue. She's always helped before, hasn't she?"

Red shifts uncomfortably. "Actually she gives me the heebie-jeebies, to be honest. Maybe you should stay here."

"This is ridiculous!" Snow flings her arms up in the air. "I gave her the true love potion that Rumple needed, she said she would use it to help Emma fulfill her destiny."

"You gave her the potion?" David and Red ask at the same time.

Snow looks between two sets of blue eyes. "What?"

* * *

Sunday, October 23, 2011 – 11:56am

Regina leads the way through the rabbit warren of corridors, each one more dank and musty than the last, and although Emma is somewhat grateful for the lack of life -- no rats, cockroaches, or spiders -- it only makes the eerie desolation seem more ominous. The beam of light from her torch creates an ever-moving shadow of Regina against the blackened walls as Emma follows her.

There is a change in the air and a tremor shakes the ground. Regina pauses and watches a sprinkle of plaster fall from the ceiling. "The darkness is coming again," she murmurs, more to herself than Emma, and she resumes her journey. Emma keeps in close behind Regina, who gains speed as she wends and weaves around corners.

Emma has no idea where they are anymore, having turned so many times and descended so many staircases, she feels a sudden wave of panic at the thought of trying to find her way back up without Regina's innate knowledge. She lengthens her strides to get closer to the brunette and she fights the urge to grab her and convince her to lead them both back up to the surface.

Regina glances over her shoulder, "Do you feel that?"

The skin on Emma's arm prickles into gooseflesh as she recognizes there has been a change in the air.

"She's close," Regina says, and breaks into a jog.

The blonde adjusts the strap over her shoulder that holds her sword and runs to catch up, though she almost runs into Regina instead as she rounds another corner only to find her stopped dead in her tracks. Her boots slide on the dirt scattered over the once-polished floor and she swings her arm out to keep her balance. She ends up standing slightly in front of Regina, the brunette's hand lightly touching her back between her shoulder blades to steady her.

In front of them, blocking the corridor, stand a number of what appear at first glance to be mannequins. All women, all in dirty, torn and tattered nurses uniforms, all standing stock still in stiff poses. Emma grips the torch on her uniform and raises the beam to the head height of the women. She leans back slightly and Regina's hand presses more firmly into her back as she sees gnarled, misshapen flesh covered by scarred skin, and she sucks in a breath as she recognizes the strange mutated union of horse and human faces.

Regina's quiet inhalations are the only sound around them until a creaking, crackling sound echoes down the halls as the nurses reanimate, dust falling from their bodies as they jerkily twist and straighten. 

In unison, they all turn and face the two women, their plain white high-heeled shoes clatter against the linoleum, a sound that reminds Regina of knights parading over the castle's stone cobbles back in a display of the Enchanted Forest equivalent of dressage for the King. They face off for a long moment, then the nurses move together again in lurching steps, their blackened, gangrenous fingertips reaching out for the warm bodies they can somehow sense but that their murky white, dead eyes cannot see.

Emma places her hand on the grip of her gun, but she quickly remembers she has only one bullet left. She doubts a bullet would stop these nurses any more than they stopped the brute who had almost decapitated them in Regina's panic room only hours earlier.

The nurses slowly writhe their way along the corridor, closing the distance between them, their strides uneven and short as though they're being moved by an inexperienced puppeteer. The sound of their shoes resonates like the beat of a devil's army march. As Emma shines her light across the front line of them, they seem to look up at her and lunge forward a bit faster, the odd one doubling over and flailing as though having a fit before stalking forwards again with renewed vigour.

Following her hunch, Emma switches the torch off and the clacking of heels stops almost instantly as the nurses freeze again, though the occasional twitch or shuffle is visible in their silhouettes from the tiny amount of light coming from somewhere behind them.

With her heart beating out of her chest, Emma reaches back and takes Regina's hand and feels it trembling through her own clammy grasp. She intertwines their fingers, and they take a few breaths to calm themselves and while they wait for their eyes to adjust to the low light.

Regina squeezes Emma's hand lightly. "Okay," she whispers, "we can do this."

Emma licks her lips and turns again towards the nurses. Still holding Regina's hand in her own, she takes one step, then another, keeping her footfalls as light and silent as she can.

One of the nurses twitches as Emma comes within a foot of her, and she gasps and grips Regina's hand tighter. Slowly she continues forward, weaving with extreme caution through the thicket of extended limbs. Up close, the scent of death is strong, and Regina swallows as her mouth waters, bile rising in her throat.

The twitching and jerking of the bodies continues, and increases as they make their way deeper into the group. Emma's eyes widen as light glints off the blade of a scalpel held by one, and she looks around noticing more and more of the nurses holding scalpels and sharp medical instruments.

An extended creaking sound from behind Regina causes her to turn. One of the nurses rises, standing tall, and a stiff, pale arm swings around. Regina ducks and the blade slices through the dusty air above her, and Emma pulls her back upright and through the ever decreasing gaps between the nurses as they begin to reawaken.

Regina halts and Emma stops short just in time to miss being slashed, the blade instead slicing through the throat of another nurse. Emma leaps over the legs of the fallen nurse, pulling Regina along behind her, and when another one pops out of nowhere, Emma swings and punches it square in the face. They burst through the back line of bodies and stagger away, and Emma rips the torch from it's clip.

Switching it on again, she slides it along the ground and the nurses look away from the two women and lurch towards the beam of light instead. Guiding her with a firm hand on her upper arm, Emma turns Regina away from the grotesque figures and they run towards the slit of light escaping from beneath a closed door at the end of the hall. Regina opens it quickly and the brightness inside the room temporarily blinds them both.

* * *

Sunday, October 23, 2011 – 11:56am

Mother Superior stands at the well, located a short way into the forest that surrounds the small town. She holds the small bottle of glowing liquid in one hand, and an intricately detailed dagger with a strangely wavy-edged blade in the other. She turns it over and her eyes trace along the letters carved into it.

RUMPLESTILTSKIN.

She casts her eye around the small clearing, and shifts her weight to the other foot impatiently, waiting for the clock to strike noon. She feels the weight of the bottle in her pocket and the anticipation of the events to come feel electric under her skin. Luring the boy out of the cafe had been easy with the very last of her pixie dust, and she hadn't realised it would be so easy to obtain the necessary potion.

Across town, a dark Cadillac rolls to a stop as it reaches the fallen tree across the road, and it's doors open. Mr Gold steps out of the driver's seat and a shorter brunette woman climbs out of the passenger side.

"What do we do now?" She asks.

He leans heavily on his cane and walks toward her. "We don't have much time, Belle. We must leave now." She looks at the tree, and at the car. "We'll walk if we have to, if that's what it takes."

He smiles at her, his eyes usually so dark and mischievous are filled with a hope that she hasn't seen in a long time. She smiles back at him, and they help each other over the trunk. Belle looks curiously at the Mercedes on the other side, it's wheel at an odd angle, and the police motorcycle on it's side off the edge of the road. With a hand on the small of her back, Rumple guides her along.

After a few minutes of walking, Belle gasps and trots forward ahead of him, slowing as she reached the edge of the road where it falls away, the bottom of the cliff invisible through the fog that surrounds them and hangs low in the chasm in front of them.

"Rumple, no!" She cries, her hands sliding down the lapels of his suit jacket. "We're trapped!"

He smiles at her and cups her cheek. "We're not," he reassures her. "You just need to believe." He looks out across the chasm. "It is an illusion, it is part of the curse. The road actually continues, and out there, Belle, our there is our freedom. Our happiness."

Belle looks behind her at the jagged edge of the road and then further into the distance, licks her lips and swallows. "I don't see it, Rumple."

He places his hand on her waist and turns her slightly so they are side by side, and his vision flickers, then the chasm fades as the road ahead becomes visible to him just beyond, as though one reality was superimposed over another. "It is right there, Belle, and we don't have much time. You need to trust me. You need to believe in me. I will never hurt you, Belle, I would never put you in danger."

Her face softens and she sees the sincerity in his eyes, but with each glance, she can't see anything but the edge of a cliff.

"Watch me, Belle. Follow me. You'll see that I won't fall." He takes a step towards the edge and Belle reaches out, grasping the air between them.

Rumple smiles again and steps off what appears to be the edge, and Belle gasps and instinctively scrunches her eyes shut before she remembers his instruction. 'Watch me, Belle.'

She opens her eyes and steps forward, but Rumple is nowhere to be seen. "Rumple?" She calls, then again a little louder. "Rumple?"

Her stomach lurches as she creeps closer to the sharp drop, and she peers over the edge, again unable to see the bottom, unable to see if Rumple's body lay down there, broken and lifeless like it was in her mind's eye. A ragged sob tears from her and she scrambles back from the edge. The fog seems thicker all around her, as though it is closing in on her. "Rumple!" She cries, her voice hoarse with emotion. "Rumple!"

The sun is warm on his back as he presses his hands on the invisible barrier in front of him. "Belle!" He cries. "Trust me, Belle. Belle!" He watches as she backs away, looking right through him. "No, Belle! You have to believe! Believe in me! I'm right here!"

He can see the tears streaking down her face, and far off in the distance he hears the bells begin to chime and he starts to panic. His fists pound uselessly against the barrier and he bounces back slightly when he throws himself against it in an attempt to get back to her. "Belle, we can be happy out here! It is the only way we will ever be free! Belle!"

Belle hears the bells in the distance signalling the time as well, and she knows she has to act. She paces, her whole body shaking, then she walks back a short ways and shakes her arms like an athlete. With an exhale that puffs out her cheeks, she strides towards the edge.

"Believe, Belle. Please believe!" Rumple murmurs as he takes a step back, his hand outstretched to help her cross the magical border.

The toe of her high heels catches a small pebble as she reaches the edge, and in the split second she sees it tumble over the edge and skitter down the cliff face she loses her nerve. She stumbles backwards and emits a pained howl.

At the sound of the bells announcing midday, Mother Superior takes a breath and drops the small, glowing bottle into the well. She reaches into a small pouch, and her hand emerges full of a fine, dark grey powder. Wisps of smoke start to emerge from the well, and as they do, the powder in her hand begins to twinkle. She closes her eyes and murmurs a spell under her breath, then tips the powder into the now billowing smoke.

The smoke turns blue and she steps back as it clouds around her and races outwards towards the town, and through it she manages to see the letters slowly disappear from the dagger in her hand until it's blade is blank. She smiles, happy that the Dark One is now gone and with the Savior taking care of Regina, she will have the entire town in her congregation, ready to bend any which way to her will to perform the duties needed to seek and eliminate all magical beings other than the fairies.

The handle of the dagger is cold against her palm, and she tries to let it go, but the blackness from it envelops her fingers, and a strand begins to coil up around her wrist. She shakes it wildly in an attempt to free herself from it, and sparks-like flecks of electric blackness fling around the glade causing small puffs of smoke to rise from singed pine needles and scorched tree bark.

Mother Superior grabs the blade with her opposite hand and wrenches the dagger from her unwilling grasp, slicing her palm open in the process, but it works and she is able to throw the dagger to the ground. Sparks and wisps of darkness curl from the handle of it, until, finally, it calms. She tears off a section of her cotton petticoat and binds her hand, then she folds another piece around the dagger and tucks it safely into the large pocket of her coat.

Back at the town line, Belle crouches down on the road with her hands clutching her head, tears dripping down her cheeks. She doesn't see the cloud approaching, but Rumple does, and he throws down his cane and tries again and again to get through to her. He loses sight of Belle as the clouds rushes over her like a wave and crashes up against the barrier in front of him, his hands pressed up against it and he watches the air swirl as it slowly clears.

When he sees Belle again she looks calm. She's standing straighter, her shoulders relaxed, her head is cocked slightly to the side. Without even another look in his direction she turns and walks away from him, and even though he knows she can't hear him it feels as though she is ignoring him and it tears his heart in two. "BELLE!" He screams, unable to cope with his love so close but slipping away from him.

He watches her climb back over the tree trunk in the distance, barely visible, and over it he sees the roof of his Cadillac move as Belle does a U-turn and heads back into the town.

Rumple punches the barrier with all his might, and the force of his own action causes him to stumble backwards. Without his cane he falls to his knees, and pain shoots through his legs. The heels of his hands graze against the rough surface of the road, and he sniffs and cries. He remembers what it felt like to be strong, and he remembers what it felt like to love, or at least to hold the possibility of love in his old, blackened heart. He had tried to let her in, but the panic he felt at his power weakening had stopped him from giving in to her love.

He couldn't risk being vulnerable in a world where he had tormented people for generations, where so many had a reason for vengeance, where anything or anyone he loved could and would be used against him. He had spent years creating a new beginning for them both, a way to free him from his burden in a world where he wouldn't need power, where he wouldn't need to die to do so.

Now he has neither love, nor power. But somehow, he has hope. A desperate, needy hope.

Rumple crawls over to his cane and uses it to help him to his feet, but when he turns back towards the town line, the road that continues on is not the same. The "Welcome To Storybrooke" sign is there, but it is grey, not green. The sun shines down unobstructed, but the light is dim on the asphalt, and his shadow is faint. There is no breeze, the air is still. There is no luster left. He takes a few steps, he doesn't reach a barrier, so he keeps walking. He sets out at the fastest pace he can manage, intent on finding Belle, his cane clicking as he walks.

 

In the forest, Mother Superior treads over the needled forest floor, feeling the dagger heavy in her pocket the whole way. She has a feeling almost like a memory, but not quite, from the few moments the darkness of it tasted her. Rumplestiltskin knew this would happen. He planned it. He knew this was the only way to free himself, and he played a game that took hundreds of years to get her back for supposedly separating him from his son. Hundreds of years of blaming her for his own failure to choose his son over his power. Hundreds of years to manipulate the events that would allow his escape to a land without magic with a loved one.

The magic of the Dark One was mysterious, and she knows now she should have known there would be more to his deal than he let on. She knew he intended for it to take her over, to saddle her with it's burden, and she laughs uproariously at his failure. 

She knows the second half of the prophecy now, the half that had been burned away. The Savior is the key, the only one who can stop the darkness that now resides within the blade, and she cannot let that happen. With the blade in her possession, she can afflict someone worthy of it's agony with it's terrible burden, and she can control them. She is light and she will control the darkness. All the power will be hers.

* * *

Sunday, October 23, 2011 – 11:59am

Snow leads the way, her hand grasping onto Charming's as though she couldn't bear to ever let him go. He frowns, "If Regina doesn't have her powers here, surely neither does Blue. Here she's just a regular nun."

"Fairy magic is in their pixie dust, and objects have some magic here, like the potion and the sleeping curse that Henry was under. Regina may not have her magic, but Blue might."

Red drops her hand casually onto Henry's shoulder while they walk. "I don't trust her, Snow. Something feels off about her."

Snow laughs. "Red, you're so suspicious of everyone, you need to lighten up."

"You need to stop being so naive," Red growls, and she meets David's knowing gaze over the top of the shorter woman's head.

In the distance the bells begin to ring, signalling midday. Ruby tenses and stops, and with her hand tight on Henry's shoulder, he stops short as well.

"What is it?" David asks, a frown wrinkling across his forehead.

Red raises her nose in the air. "Not good. Something is not good. We need to get somewhere safe."

Snow looks panicked. "Safe from what?"

Henry gapes. "From that," and when they look at where he is pointing, it is too late to escape the blue cloud of magic hurtling towards them. It rushes past, wrapping them all up and being sucked into their lungs, and when it settles they are all laying on the ground.

Red leaps to her feet and dusts herself off. "We need to go, now," she says firmly.

Snow and David slowly get to their feet, and Henry follows they turn and resume their journey to the convent.

"Guys?" Red says, and trots to catch up with them. "I think we need to get somewhere safe."

Snow stares straight ahead, her movements stiff and unlike her, and David is keeping his distance.

Red feels her hackles rise in a way she hasn't felt for a long time. She stops and looks at her hand, and she remembers how it feels. She looks harder, and under her gaze, her nails grow longer and curl. She grins. She feels her tight clothes tighten further as her muscles grow, and she runs, she runs much faster than anyone would expect a girl to run, and she grabs Henry and gathers him in her arms, easily overpowering his resistance.

His grandparents don't even flinch as he grunts and flails against her, they don't stop their steady plodding. She holds the struggling boy tighter against her and runs as fast as she can to the only safe place she can think of in this god-forsaken town.

She runs past flocking townsfolk, all ignoring her and Henry, all mindlessly drawn to the convent. As she turns onto main street she slows and watches the familiar black Cadillac drive towards her, and as it passes she watches her friend stare blankly straight ahead. Red curses and picks up the pace.

* * *

Sunday, October 23, 2011 – 12:01pm

Flames lick at the edges of the walls, hot and bright, but not searing. White smoke rises and is sucked up through cracks in the rocky ceiling of the cavernous room, although the air itself is clear enough to breathe and smells only slightly dank, but not smoky.

The young girl floats in the air, suspended weightlessly a couple of feet below the high ceiling. Her dark eyes glare, and her lips pull back to bare her teeth at the women who enter the space she had been confined to all these years. The movement causes the fresh-looking gash on her upper lip to separate and her teeth began to go pink as the coppery liquid mixes with her saliva. She narrows her eyes as Regina comes into view behind Emma, who holds her gun cautiously out in front.

Regina sucks in a breath when she sees the girl, and she worries her lower lip for a moment before she raises her chin and steps up to Emma's side. Emma swallows and takes another step towards the child. She adjusts her grip on the firearm and her eyes flicker to the adult Regina, and despite the stoic expression she can see the pain in her eyes at the sight of her dark side embodied in her younger self.

With another small, shuffling step, Emma catches the attention of the girl, and takes in her position. The girl hangs stiffly, her eyes flashing with unspoken warning, her arms firmly pressed against her sides.

"You have to do it, Emma," Regina says quietly. "Now. Don't get any closer."

Her gun is still in her outstretched arm, but aimed low to the ground. She moves another step closer and the girl growls, almost cat-like. Something feels off, and Emma struggles with indecision about whether to complete the task at hand. Again she nervously adjusts her grip on her weapon, stretching her fingers and placing her trigger finger against the guard.

That's when she notices it. The white chemise the girl wears under her tight purple bodice, which flares out into an ankle-length dress of heavy fabric, laced-up patent boots with pointed toes peeking out from beneath, has billowing sleeves. Billowing except for in two places, where the fabric is firm against her arms, above and below each elbow, as though bound by invisible straps around her small body.

"Regina, I..." she begins, and looks beseechingly at the older version of the girl.

"Everything that's happening, it's my fault. I created this curse. It's only fitting that it takes my life."

There is a resigned sadness to her demeanour that causes a surge of panic within Emma, and she turns back to the young girl. She holsters the gun and walks forward, hands open and non-threatening, and stops at the girl's feet. "I'm going to try to get you down." She reaches a hand out tentatively, stopping before she touched the girl's ankle. "May I?" she asks.

Young Regina doesn't respond, but the set of her brow relaxes a fraction and her head tilts to the side as she assesses the woman beneath her. Emma licks her lips and grips the soft leather of the girl's boot, and is surprised to feel the girl begin to descend with the ease of a helium balloon being pulled down by a string. Emma moves her contact to the girl's waist, then placed her hands atop her shoulders as she lowers her down to the ground. The moment her feet touched the floor the invisible bindings holding her arms against her fall away, and Emma hurries back a couple of paces. 

They eye each other up, Emma's hand hovering near her holster, the girl's hand twisted palm upwards. She frowned at Emma as she flexes it.

A gasp from behind her. "Emma, no! She's trying to access her magic!" Regina warns. "Stop her!"

But Emma doesn't feel threatened, despite the unmasked fury in those dark eyes, the deep rage held in every taut muscle of the girl's small frame. Emma knows that look, she's seen that look too many times in too many children in too many group homes. She'd seen something similar in the mirror too often as well.

"She's hurt, Regina. She's scared. She's angry." She lowers herself onto one knee, the other bent in front of her. "It's okay, I'm not going to hurt you."

"Who are you?" The young girl finally asks in a surprisingly quiet voice.

"I am Emma Swan," she replies. "I am the Savior." She finally understands the discomfort she had felt with her task, her strong reluctance to comply. She isn't here to kill. "I am here to save you."

The girl walks forward, her boots clicking against the dusty rock floor. She stops in front of Emma, a small smile curls at the corners of her mouth and once again her lip bleeds into her teeth, and up close Emma realises the depth of the wound. A small hand reaches out to touch her face, it cups her cheek with deathly cold fingers, and images flashed through Emma's mind.

_A crying baby alone in a crib._

_Tiny fingers bleeding from clawing at the locked door from inside a cupboard._

_A kitten's neck snapped in front of her eyes._

_Bones broken and healed, only to be broken again._

_The tip of a horse-whip unfurling towards her and a searing pain in her lip._

_Hanging suspended in the air, powerless._

_An old man on his knee in front of her._

_The same old man hovering above her._

Her eyes snap open again and she swallows down the bile that had risen in her throat.

"Oh, Emma," Young Regina says in a tone of voice far beyond her apparent years. "You can't save me. No one can."

Emma's face fall as her hope falters, and the smirk on the child's face twists into something cruel. Her high-pitched giggle echoes through the small room.

"I can," Regina says firmly. The girl's head whipped arouned and Emma feels the freezing touch leave her face. "I know what you seek. I found it, and you can find it too." She smiles. "I have a home, a son," she glances at Emma, "friends. Freedom. Peace."

The girl's small, clear voice pierces the tension in the room. "You believe any of that was real? The dream of this life must end, and so too must the dreamers within it." The pair circle each other. "For thirty years you have lied to your own soul. For thirty years you have denied my existence. But now is the end of days and I am the reaper."

"You are right." Regina admits. "For thirty years I tried to forget you, I tried to ensure I would never feel anything again. I remembered everything that made you the way you are, but I banished the power you held over me from my life."

"You claimed that this was your revenge, but all you did was hide from who you are in an imaginary world. For thirty years you buried what made you strong. You're a fool, and you're a coward, and I will end you," the girl scowls.

Regina steps closer and looks down on her younger self. "For thirty years I have grown, I have healed, and I have learned to love."

"Love is weakness." The girl snarls with a startling venom. She lunges at Regina and plunges a hand into her chest.

"Regina!" Emma breaks from her stunned silence and stumbles to her feet.

"No," Regina grins, gripping the bicep of the arm lodged within her, "love is strength." She swings her other arm around and wraps the girl in a forced hug. Emma reaches out, wanting to help and support Regina but she holds back, shocked at the scene unfolding in front of her and unsure if she would help or hinder by interfering.

The girl struggles hard against the embrace, but her adult self is far stronger. Regina closed her eyes, her jaw tenses and the vein in her forehead pulses as she looked upwards at the ceiling, lines wrinkling at the corners of her eyes from the effort and pain. Emma's eyes widen and her mouth drops open as with a wail, the girl begins to disappear into her older self, their flesh merging.

And then it was over. The young girl was gone. Regina staggers and Emma catches her before she falls to the floor. Dark hair splays across the front of Emma's shirt as the woman in her arms rests her head on her shoulder, and Emma presses a kiss to the top of her head for no reason other than she has to do something to express the welled up emotion inside her. "Are you okay?"

She feels the older woman steady herself and regain her footing before straightening and standing upright with Emma's help. Tears had washed clean lines down her dusty cheeks, and now-damp blackened dust smeared across her cheeks as she wipes at them. "Yes," she says weakly, and offers a small smile. "Yes, I am."

"That was... what did you do?"

Regina clears her throat and licks her lips. "I became whole again."

"You're not going to go all Evil Queen again, are you?" The blonde cocks her head to the side and eyes her warily. "You don't look... Evil Queen-ey."

She chuckles darkly. "No, dear. It seems she is not the strongest part of me any more."

"She's..." Emma points a finger sternum height at Regina, "in you?"

Regina touches her fingers to her chest, just above her heart. "She is part of me."

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

Sunday, October 23, 2011 – 12:27pm

Emma turns the corner and stops so suddenly that Regina bumps into her, only to be pushed backwards by Emma's splayed hand in the center of her chest. "Run!" She screams.

A hand grasps Regina's and something clamps over her forearm, but with a well-timed elbow to the masked face, Emma wrenches the other woman free of the man's grip and they bolt back in the direction they came from.

Regina's studious memorizing of the town pays off as she dashes through the tunnels, and she leads Emma through the rabbit warren of twists and turns, the heavy footfalls of their pursuers close behind. Then Emma trips over a piece of rebar and falls heavily.

Regina skids to a stop, but Emma is already clambering to her feet, the bar in her hand. "Go!" She screams. "Don't turn back, just go!" And she presses her back to the wall, the bar raised over her shoulder like baseball bat. "Please! Go for Henry!" She pleads, and with a gasping sob, Regina turns and runs into the darkness. She hears a thud, a man's groan, Emma grunting, more whacks, a cry of pain, and just as she reaches the narrow metal ladder rising up the thin shaft to freedom, she hears a woman's scream.

With her hands on the cold metal, she freezes. She knows what it means, she knows it's too late to turn back now, but the wrenching pain in her chest aches in a way she never expected. "Henry," she murmurs, and she climbs the ladder.

She emerges in a wooden shed behind the convent, and although she has to pry the locked door open with a crowbar, thankfully hanging on the wall, her escape is simple. She runs, blackened with dirt and soot, for the tree-line twenty yards away. Satisfied that she hadn't been spotted, she stumbled through the underbrush around the edge of the large property, and finally pops out into the backyard of a nearby house at the end of a deserted cul-de-sac street.

All the streets are deserted. She looks at her wrist, finally, and realises the cuff is a magic-blocking device. She rolls her eyes, it isn't as though there is any magic in town anyway.

She runs to Main Street, and the entire way there is not a citizen in sight. She heads for Gold's shop, unsure what she's looking for, but as she passes Granny's she hears a noise. A frustrated yell. A child. Her son.

The bell clangs loudly as she shove the door open. "Henry?" She yells into the seemingly deserted cafe. There is another muffled cry from the kitchen. "Henry!"

As she rounds the corner, she is body-slammed back into the corridor, and as she struggled against the hold she recognizes that her assailant is the young werewolf.

"Regina," Red says, her voice much softer than her body language, "Regina stop struggling. Let me explain."

Already knowing that without her magic she has no chance at overpowering the younger woman, Regina grudgingly relents, though her muscles remain tense and ready for fight or flight. She scowls at Red as she slowly releases the panting mayor's pinned wrists. Regina rubs them and tugs at the cuff, immovable around her arm, but more uncomfortable since their encounter.

"Every human seems to be under some kind of spell. The Blue Fairy has somehow summoned them all to the convent. I was with Snow and David when it happened, they just--" her face takes on a pained expression, "changed. They changed, and I managed to grab Henry and run off with him. I brought him here."

Regina softens. "He's okay?"

Red rubbed the back of her neck. "He and Granny are locked in the cool-room. It was the only safe place I could think to keep him. He's not happy about it, he's trying to get out and to the convent, but it's not right, Gee."

Regina raises an eyebrow.

"Regina," Ruby quickly corrects, and she has the decency to look sheepish at overstepping her bounds. She clears her throat. "I had to keep the compressor on so that they'd have fresh air but I dialled the temperature up as far as it goes and they have blankets and stuff. And food of course." There is another yell from the kitchen, the sound of a pre-teen boy having a tantrum. "Sounds like he needs a Snickers though."

"This is hardly the time for jokes, Miss Lucas," Regina scolds.

Red gulps. She looks out into the main part of the diner. "Where's Emma?"

She knows by the way Regina's face falls that something bad happened before she even speaks. "They caught her."

"Who?"

"I don't know. _Them._ The men in coveralls." The vein in her forehead pulses as she struggles to contain her emotions. "She gave me time to escape."

Red frowns. "If she's dead, aren't we all supposed to go whizzing back to the Enchanted Forest or something?"

There's a long pause, and Regina stares at her, mouth slightly open. "Yes," she finally says. Her expression tightens and she steps away from the wall. "Yes, she's still alive. She must be."

A smile spreads across the werewolf's face. "Then let's go get her, witchy woman!"

Regina peers around the woman and looks into the kitchen. "He'll be okay?"

"Granny, we're going to go save the Savior now!" Red bellows.

The cool-room door is shut and Regina spots a meat hook jammed through the latch. Granny's somewhat muted reply is still audible through the insulated door. "Good! Hurry up, this cold air is hell on my arthritis!"

The bell rings above the diner door and the women flinch and look at each other with wide eyes. Cautiously Red steps past Regina and peeps out to see who has joined them.

* * *

Sunday, October 23, 2011 – 1:11pm

Regina sneaks a peak from behind the heavy drapes and watches the crowd gather around a beaten and bloody Emma.

Mother Superior sidles forward to where the officer sagged, held up by two men as she sucked air into her lungs, the effort of doing so obviously causing her pain and by the way she winced and curved her body, Regina is certain the blonde has fractured ribs. She's familiar with that feeling.

"You did not succeed," the prim woman gloats, and Emma glowers up at her under pinched brows from her hunched position. "The Savior was meant to kill the Dark One, and we all would have returned to our lives. You failed."

"We didn't fail," Emma croaks. "we stopped the darkness."

A gloved hand grips her face, and Emma's split lip is forcibly pursed. "You are still alive. We are still in this world."

Mother Superior looks at the so-called Savior. The darkness shall eclipse the light. The light. The darkness. They thought it was the darkness the took over the town, that blocked out the sun, the moon, that cut electricity and sent them running for shelter and hiding from their demons. Eclipse. Not obscured but deprived of power. Regina had corrupted the Savior. The darkness had obliterated their hope.

She smiles smugly and a chill runs down Emma's spine. "There must always be a balance. In every realm, in every way, a balance. Light and dark, good and evil. You have sided with evil, you have changed the balance, you sided with evil and lost your light. A new Savior will rise from your ashes."

Emma's face contorts with fear. "What?"

"I understand the prophecy now. There is a new darkness, stronger than it was before as it has sucked your power from you. A greater good must rise against, and that good is me." She points to the giant brazier in the centre of the room. "Burn her!"

Emma struggles against the men holding her, she kicks and tries to wrench her arms free but they are too strong, and she finds herself bound to a ladder, tied at the ankles and her arms above her head. "No!" She screams, panic coursing through her veins and she ignores all the protests of her bruised and broken body as she thrashes and writhes against the restraints. Another rope is tied to the top of the ladder, which is then winched upright and it's feet adjusted, and it is a brief relief when it is lowered back to rest against the bannister of the mezzanine floor.

The rest of the crowd is a flurry of activity as chairs, books, and anything else flammable gets thrown into the pit and doused liberally in gasoline. Mother Superior holds up a burning torch, the flame dancing high around its wick.

"We burn this witch, we vanquish evil!" She cries, and the crowd cheers. She reaches out with the torch and lights the pyre.

Regina dashes out of her hiding place into the melee, darting through the frenzied group focused only on the pyre, and her path to the ladder.

Mother Superior looks at the sandy-haired man holding the other end of the rope tied to the ladder and nods. He grins and jumps up, using his body weight with each tug to once again raise the ladder near vertical.

The doors burst open and sunlight shines in, the parishioners shade their eyes from the brightness but most don't see the flash of reddish brown as a large wolf leaps from the top stair and lands on the doctor. He lets go of the rope and the ladder slams back against the wall behind Emma, who winces and cries out at the vibration of the impact shudders through her broken bones. Amid the chaos below her, a lone figure moves with purpose, pushing through the panicked, yet not disbursing crowd, and begins climbing the ladder below her.

As she climbs and looked upwards, the shawl slips back off her head and Emma sobs with relief at the sight of Regina. When she reaches the blonde's boots, Regina draws a large kitchen knife from her belt and slices at the rope around the younger woman's ankles. She pauses as she gets through, and with one hand tried to hold the knife and the ladder so she can free her from the bindings with the other.

Below them, the wolf manages to clamp down on the arm of the person holding the rope, and when they stumble, the ladder drops back a few feet before the rope is caught again by somebody else. But the jolt sends Regina scrambling to hold on, and the knife falls to the ground beneath them with a crash, narrowly missing a few kindling collectors. The sound draws the attention of the crowd away from the wolf, which is pinning Dr Whale to the floor with a menacing snarl and a firm grip of his forearm.

"Oh, shit, Regina," Emma blurts, "that's not good."

"Don't you think I know that? Idiot." Regina grumbles.

Mother Superior points at the rope Dr Whale is now incapable of pulling on. "Burn the witches!" She screeches, and the crowd moves in unison. Regina climbs up to where her feet are level with Emma's, and after a moment to share a desperate smile, she reaches around and feels for Emma's sword but the sheath is empty. The wolf leaps off the man and tries to battle it's way through the throng, dragging people away, attempting to clamber over the top of them, but there are too many. The ladder begins to rise again.

Emma kicks off the rope from her ankles and Regina climbs further up over the battered woman, straddling the blonde, stopping only when her foot was firmly atop the rung between Emma's thighs. She reaches for the rope tying her wrist, but without a blade, and because of the amount of effort Emma had struggled with, it is too tightly bound.

A long shadow stretches across the tiled floor of the convent as a sturdy figure blocks the doorway. With the sun shining from behind, only the silhouette is visible and the person draws a crossbow. After taking in the scene before them, the crossbow rises, aimed high in the air, and with a thwack the bolt releases and slices almost completely through the rope between the top of the ladder and the pulley. Regina twists around and watches the final strands fray and with a snap, the ladder with the two women atop it slams back against the wall once again.

Emma groans as not only her own body is forced back against the rungs, but the weight of Regina's pressed against her, in a way which she briefly pondered would be much more pleasant in any other situation. Steady again, Regina presses her belly against Emma's chest, despite knowing it would hurt, she needs to do so just enough to arch her upper body back to free her hands to frantically attempt to untie the knot below Emma's pale, cold hands.

A frustrated bellow from below causes them to both look down, and Mother Superior parts the crowd with a wave of her hand. Half of them remain battling the wolf and the arbelist, the other half flock towards the base of the ladder.

"You have to shoot her, Regina."

Regina looks down and for the first time realises that Emma's gun is still in the holster strapped to her hip, and her eyes trace the line of the thin leather strap looping around her firm thigh. There hadn't been any guns in Storybrooke, and no one had seen Emma fire hers except for herself and Henry. They didn't know what it was and hadn't removed it from her person. Regina knows there is only one bullet left, Emma had said so down in the tunnels.

She reaches down, her cheek pressed against Emma's own as she stretches for the weapon, but once it is in her hand she realises she has no idea what she's doing.

"See that thing on the side? That's the safety. Slide it, yeah, like that, now it's off."

Regina aims at the nun below, but her hand is shaking all over the place. "I can't." She drops the gun before Emma can protest, and returns to working faster on the knot. The half of the crowd not fighting the intruders gathers around the base of the ladder and it begins tip forward by manpower alone.

She finally pushes the end of the rope through itself and unwinds it from around Emma's wrists and the rung. Emma lowers her arms and struggled to hold on as the ladder reaches the centre of gravity while her back is still against the rungs. Regina holds tight and pulled herself as close to Emma as she can, and time slows as they teeter and fall towards the fire. Emma wraps her arms tightly around Regina's waist.

As far as ways to die go, Emma never imagined it would be with her face buried in the bosom of a beautiful woman at the hands of a magically controlled congregation. Time seems to slow down, and she presses her ear to the chest of the woman who had risked everything trying to save her - and lost - and listens to the strong heart beating loudly in her ear. She filled her lungs with the scent of Regina and wishes this was all a dream and she was still fast asleep in Regina's spare bed.

The ladder clatters into the fire pit, bouncing and disturbing the stack of burning debris, and a puff of smoke ascends as the timber re-settles and flames leap high in the air.

The sound draws the attention of Mother Superior, who stands proudly on the top stair of the raised area to the side of the room, which functions almost as a stage for her now. She smiles broadly and throws her arms wide in the air.

"With the downfall of the darkness, a new light shall rise from the ashes! Welcome to the new dawn!"

She doesn't see the glowing metal in the flames. She doesn't hear the metallic creaking sound over the popping of burning wood and the braying her followers. She doesn't even feel the shard of steel enter her skull right between her eyes when the gun explodes in the fire which sends the slide hurtling across the large room directly at her, embedding the serial number deeply within her frontal cortex, only the last few digits - 836M4X - emerging from the surprisingly precise wound.

The crowd stops fighting before Mother Superior's lifeless body even hits the floor. An eerie silence falls over them all, the soft thud of flesh hitting wood is heard over the noise of the roaring fire. Weapons lower, and citizens shake their heads as the fog of the spell controlling them disappears and they start to remember what had happened while they weren't in control of themselves. 

At the sound of a gasping sob amongst the low murmurs, Red transforms back into herself. She roughly strips a bathrobe off a pyjama-clad dwarf and wraps it around herself as she spots her friend on the other side of the fire.

Snow drops to her knees and looks up, her face awash with horror as the soles of Emma's boots, still and lifeless, jut out from the flames. She presses her face into her hands and screams with all the agony of any mother who lost her child not once, but twice.

Tears and saliva soak into the soft towelling as the werewolf holds Snow tightly to her. David slides in and gathers his wife and her friend in his arms. "Her destiny was to save us, I didn't know she would have to die doing it!"

Red pulls harshly away from her friends and grips Snow's chin with long fingers, brightly painted nails digging slightly into pale flesh. She bares her teeth in a grin. "She didn't."

The Charmings both frown, and David, free to move his head, looks up and across at the fire even though he can't see above the rim of the giant disc from their position on the floor. "What do you mean? We all saw them fall in there!"

With a low chuckle, Red cocks her head. "I know you don't have my super senses, but haven't you ever been close to a funeral pyre? You don't need my nose to know that it doesn't smell anything like human barbecue in here."

* * *

Sunday, October 23, 2011 – 1:20pm

The impact was not at all what Emma expected. She had slid her hands up instinctively at the last moment to cradle the back of Regina's head and neck, not that softening the blow would necessarily be a good thing when their fate was to burn alive, but the instinct to survive over-ruled the desire to make their deaths painless.

Instead, they landed surprisingly gently, Regina's arms falling from above her where she had been gripping the ladder land on Emma's shoulder-blades, and it took her a moment to register the slapping sound of skin on skin. The expected intensity of heat from the fire making the air against their bare skin feel even cooler, and their confusion drags out the moment that through beating hearts and heaving breaths and pumping adrenaline they realise they're okay. Somehow, they're okay.

Emma raises her head off Regina's chest and ignores her screaming ribs to shift herself forward a little to put her weight on her elbows, her hands still pinned behind the brunette's head. Against the pillow. Their eyes locked for a long moment, confusion melding quickly into relief and disbelief. Regina's eyes flit around the room they find themselves in, the familiarity of her spare bedroom as comforting as it is unsettling that they had somehow landed there, and her eyes lock back onto green as she sucks in a small breath of air.

"You have magic," she says softly. Her eyes convey wonder and surprise and appreciation that Emma is reluctant to claim.

She frowns instead. "No, you do."

Regina removes a hand from Emma's shoulder and holds it out where the younger woman could see the firm leather cuff still attached to her wrist. "I do, but I can't use it. But you, you did this..."

After a brief pause, Emma slides her hands out from under Regina and pushed herself up further, which was when she realised that she was actually laying atop Regina, whose legs were spread beneath her, Emma's belly pressed against her heat. She scrambles off the woman and the bed in just her bra and panties, one sock sitting higher up her calf than the other.

With more grace than anyone should have when they find themselves magically transported and almost naked underneath someone who only a day ago was a complete stranger, Regina moves to the edge of the bed and stands, and Emma gulps at the sight of her black lace undergarments, the panties low across her hips and the cups of her bra transparent enough to reveal hints of dusky nipples between the darker swirls of lace. The blonde remembers to close her mouth and looks down at the floor as she licks her dry lips, and tries to ignore the tingling feeling low in her belly.

When she glances up again, Regina is staring at her unashamedly. "You have magic," she repeats, more firmly this time. Emma looks at her hands, her eyes dart towards the bed she had only a minute ago wished she had been in then found herself in immediately after, then back to Regina. She shrugs.

"The Savior. Of course," Regina murmurs quietly, then walks towards her and Emma's tingling feeling intensifies as goose-flesh raises across her skin. Regina reaches for and takes Emma's hand. "Only a magic user can remove the cuff."

"I don't know how," Emma admits sadly. Regina guides her hand onto the cuff, and then touches Emma's cheek, her hand slides up until a fingertip slides into the edge of blonde curls and rests against her temple.

"Close your eyes," she says and Emma complies. "Imagine removing the cuff, imagine it just coming off in your hand." She feels Emma tug at her wrist. "Feel it, Emma. You have to want to take it off." She watches the wrinkles in her forehead deepen and a pink tongue dart out to dampen pale lips. "You have to want to free me," her voice low and quiet, "take it off me, Emma. Take it off."

A whimpering sound escapes Emma's throat and with a small puff of pale blue smoke, the cuff comes off in her hand. She opens her eyes and grins at the woman standing directly in front of her, so close, so very close. "I did it!" She whispers proudly.

Regina beams at her. "You did." She licks her own lips, a little proud for reading the other woman so well, a little guilty for using her assets to achieve her goal, and more than a little impressed with the novice's abilities. And her musculature. She steps away and holds her hand out, palm up, and she stares at it with intense concentration. After a moment a small flame appears and grows slightly. Emma notices the vein on Regina's forehead pulsing with the effort.

"Cool."

The flame disappears and Regina rolls her eyes. "No, not 'cool', Miss Swan. The after-effects of that cuff are still interfering with my magic. It will take me some time to regain my strength." She turns and walks towards the door, and when she looks over her shoulder she catches Emma's eyes dart upwards from her rear to meet her gaze, and the pinkness of her cheeks deepens. "Follow me."

In her own bedroom, she enters the walk-in closet and slips on a black camisole from a hanger to one side. She pulls on sockette stockings and black slacks, and slips on a maroon silk shirt. With it half buttoned, she notices Emma's side profile as she stands awkwardly in her bedroom, facing away to give her a privacy to dress that Regina had become accustomed to during the curse, though she hadn't had it, nor felt the need for it, for most of her life.

For the second time that day, Regina notices the purple bruise running down the length of Emma's thigh, and she bites her lip. She walks towards Emma, who shrinks a little now that she is the only one with her body on display. Regina pointedly looks at Emma's injury, and Emma herself stretches around, stomach muscles tighten and define with the movement, which doesn't go unnoticed.

"May I try something?" Regina asks, and Emma notices the depth in the dark eyes this time. There's the Regina she knew, that same gentleness and compassion, but there is also the haunted empathy of someone who has suffered as well.

Emma nods in reply, and Regina lowers herself to one knee, and reaches out. Emma feels a warm hand touch her skin, rough and sore from the road rash. For a moment there is nothing, then she gasps and emits a rather sexual sounding groan as a warm feeling glows in her thigh. Without a thought she reaches out and places a hand on Regina's shoulder, and the feeling grows exponentially. She moans again and her brain won't even really think of how it feels other than good, really good, like a warm bath and a massage and like every nerve is being soothed from the inside out.

As soon as Emma's hand touched her shoulder Regina felt her power surge, and the magic pouring from her palm felt stronger and somehow cleaner than she had ever felt before. She felt it course through all her veins, flood through every fibre of her body, and it was intoxicating. She heard Emma moan again and her pulse beat strongly between her legs. Healing magic had never been something she had done often, nor particularly well due to lack of practice, and it had most definitely never felt like this before. Never felt as though was healing her as well rather than draining her, never made her feel so alive.

She slides her hand upwards, at first not believing she had enough strength to knit bone, but now she feels invincible. Emma groans as the bones shift underneath Regina's hand, the magic not completely dulling the pain but rapidly reducing it at her gentle touch.

Reluctantly Regina pulls away when she feels the ribs are mended, her bruises and broken skin are all gone, Emma's lean thigh again unblemished, and she feels the loss immediately. She clears her throat and rises to her feet again, and realises that the pain in her own leg is absent. She unbuttons her slacks and drops them, the knotted bruise from her encounter in the Town Hall with the scaffolding is gone.

With a smile, she tries again to conjure a fireball. This time it is much larger, but it sputters and flickers. She frowns and looks again at Emma, whose stunned expression emphasised by the rapid rise and fall of her sports-bra-clad chest.

"Does magic always feel like that?" She asks, her voice high and slightly shaky.

Regina shakes her head. "No, it doesn't." She bends and pulls up her slacks, then returns to the closet and slides a pair of jeans off a shelf and a rich blue-grey silk shirt from it's hanger. "Here, we need to stop that bitch, and go and get Henry."

"Where is he?" Emma asks, taking the offered clothes.

"Granny's," Regina replies, zipping up heeled, knee-length boots, and after moment of rummaging at the back of the closet, emerges with some expensive-looking, fleece-lined, mid-calf, hiking boots. "I bought a size up for extra thick sock space. They should fit."

The shirt fits well, and despite the jeans being a little snug around the hips, Emma manages to do them up without any trouble.

She pulls one boot on, wiggles her toes and grins. "Perfect."

"Come on then," Regina smiles, and strides out into the hallway. Emma follows, hunching over and trying to finish tying her bootlace while walking.

She almost collides with Regina when they step out the front door and Regina stops abruptly. She looks at the driveway and Emma remembers the Mercedes at the town line, and Snow's 4x4 parked at the cemetary.

Emma's hand presses against Regina's bicep as she steps around her. She looks back up from the porch step and beckons the beckons her to follow. "Come on, I got this."

Parked in a driveway across the street is light blue Chevelle, a real beauty if Emma ever did see one. With a close eye on the house, she jogs up and tries the door. She silently thanks Regina's small, single-Sheriff town as the unlocked door opens and she slips into the driver's seat. The passenger door opens and she looks up at Regina with her tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth, an arm feeling around under the dash.

"Who knew my misspent youth would pay off?" She chuckles. The wires spark in her hands and the engine rumbles to life, she pulls her leg inside the car and hits the gas, revving the beast. She slams the door shut and roars out of the driveway, Regina holding tight to the handle, and she reaches for her seatbelt as they slide sideways out of the drive before steadying out on Mifflin Street.

* * *

Sunday, October 23, 2011 – 1:34pm

As they walk out of the church into the light, the citizens of Storybrooke Hill shade their eyes from the sun and take in the recently unfamiliar sight of clear skies. Even the thin layer of ash that had coated everything was gone, and the air had a sea-salt-and-forest freshness to it.

The murmured greetings of townsfolk -- neighbours and community members -- cordial and polite, were interspersed by yelps of surprise and gleeful shouts as families and friends from a time long forgotten but freshly remembered were reunited.

A hand bell rings out from atop the church stairs and the crowd turns. Snow beams a wide smile at them all. "My people! I am so happy to see you all! We have all been through a terrible curse and I am so glad we have now triumphed over the darkness!"

Her smile grows as the people gather a little closer to hear her. "Although we are not yet home, rest assured that I have returned as the rightful queen, and I will reclaim the White Kingdom. Together we shall find our way home!"

A few people clap, but many stand still, watching the woman's smile falter. A middle-aged man near the rear rolls his eyes and walks away.

"How will you return us to the Enchanted Forest?" a voice cries out.

Snow's smile returns. "My daughter is here. Princess Emma, the Savior! She was foretold to break the curse, she will save us."

"Isn't she dead?" comes another voice, deep, from Snow's left.

"No," Snow assures them, "she is alive."

"We watched her and the Evil Queen go into the fire," the man protests. "She's dead!"

Their self-appointed leader shakes her head. "No, she got away. Didn't you notice it doesn't smell like a pyre? Only wood smoke."

People look at each other, and a few sniff the air and nod.

"The Queen is alive too?"

Snow White frowns. "I am your queen now, but yes, Regina is still alive too. We may need her magic to help us return. I command you to leave her unharmed!"

Questions begin to pile in as more people gather around. "What makes you think the Evil Queen will help us?"

"What makes you think she won't, she's run this town like clockwork all these years and never harmed anyone," David responds.

"Yeah, I kinda like it here. Can we stay?" Snow and David glance at each other.

"Please, everyone return to your homes. My husband and I will call a town meeting when we know more. Until then, please don't leave town, and do not harm Regina."

A petite brunette pushes through the crowd. "I was at the town line just before noon. The road was gone." Belle says to Snow, her eyes wet and sad. Red is at her side in a flash and takes her hand.

Snow pats Belle on the arm and purses her lips, her brow wrinkled. She turns, "Leroy, you and Walter go out to the town line, see what we're dealing with since Mother Superior--" her mouth hangs open as she tries to think of the right words for the woman's demise, but the men nod in understanding anyway and mosy off to the van parked haphazardly near the convent gates.

"Belle," Snow asks with a motherly tone, "are there books on magic in the library?" At the woman's nod, she continues. "Will you go and find all you can on this curse, how it works, and how to break it?"

The tiny woman sucks in a breath and she seemed to re-inflate with purpose. With a quick "yep!" she walks to the Cadillac as fast as her extraordinarily high heels will take her, Red trailing behind.

* * *

Sunday, October 23, 2011 – 1:48pm

The Chevelle screeches to a stop in the middle of Main Street, the women see the crowd of citizens wandering back into town, quite obviously under their own control. They had been headed directly to the convent, but if the spell had been broken on the masses, it would have also been broken on Henry. Emma reaches an arm behind Regina's seat and looks through the rear-view as she reverses up the road, pulling up outside the diner. The doors fling open and the two women leap out, leaving the engine running.

Regina pulls the meat-hook from the door latch and inside she finds a very cold Henry, huddled under thick blankets with Archie Hopper.

"Jiminy," she says after her son has leapt into her arms, "thank you for keeping him safe."

Archie rises to his feet, shivering, although Regina is a pleased that it isn't due to her presence. He still looks at her the way he did during the curse, with compassion and understanding. He pushes his spectacles up with a finger. "No problem."

Emma takes the blanket that Archie offers and drapes it over Henry, and Regina puts him down so they can get back to the car. She drives sensibly this time, avoiding the pedestrians on the road, one of them being Granny, who waves them down to regale them with the story of Blue's demise.

Pulling up to the convent, there are few people still around. Red appears in the doorway, and after she calls back into the building, Snow and David appear. They wrap Emma in a tight embrace as she approaches, and David pats Regina on the back and places his hand on Henry's shoulder.

Inside the foyer, Emma approaches Blue's prostrate form, over which someone had thrown a dropcloth of some sort. She checks that Henry is out of sight before she pulls it back, and she can't help but cringe at the gruesome sight.

She notices a lump in the woman's coat, and when she pats it down she feels something hard within it. She reaches in and feels cloth over something hard, and she draws it out. When the handle of a dagger emerges, Emma is drawn to touching it.

A weight slams into her and the blade clatters to the floor. Snow screeches and slaps at Regina until she rolls off Emma and Snow spots the dagger next to the nun's body. "Oh," she says, "Regina..."

With a scowl at Snow, Regina dusts herself off and faces Emma. "That is the Dark One's dagger. See how it has no name on it? Rumple must have left town before magic returned and freed himself from it. It is bound within the dagger now, and anyone who holds it will be possessed by it's power, and absorbed by it."

"It sounds like Rumple planned this whole thing, maybe we can find--"

Snow interrupts her daughter. "Belle is at the library now, researching magic." Her eyes aren't focussing quite on them, instead she keeps glancing at the dagger. Regina laces her fingers through Emma's, and a purple cloud surrounds them.

When they re-form, they're in the pawnbroker's. The blank dagger lays atop the glass case next to the ancient cash register. Emma braces herself against the cabinet, still a little dizzy from transporting. "Not sure I'm going to get used to travelling that way."

"You will," Regina smiles.

Emma leans a little closer and inspects the dagger, her fingertips pressed so firmly to the glass they're going white. "Is it weird that I feel a really strong desire to hold it?"

The curtain to the room at the rear pulls back. "No, it is trying to lure another victim."

"Resist it, Miss Swan," Regina touches the small of Emma's back lightly. "If anyone knows that the lure of darkness, it's me. Trust me, it isn't worth it."

"You feel it too?" Emma asks, and Regina nods and bites her lower lip.

"Snow said you were at the library," Regina changes the subject.

Belle shrugs with one shoulder. "I was headed there but I realised if Rumple had any notes or anything, he'd have left them here."

Red lips curl at the corners. "Bookworm's got smarts. Have you found anything?"

She places small, worn, leather-bound notebook onto the counter. "There is this, but I can't read it, I think it's enchanted."

Regina opens the pages, they're tattered at the edges from use, yet they all appear blank. "Yes, it is." She closes it again, and her eyes, and holds it in both her hands. Emma and Belle catch eyes, then Regina places the book back down. When she opens it, it is filled with scrawled writing.

She stops flicking through the pages when she reaches the page marked by a brown ribbon.

They read in silence, being a fast reader, Belle finishes first and watches the reactions of the other women. Emma turns away and runs her fingers through her hair. "He planned this. He planned all of this! Right from turning you into someone who would sacrifice to cast the curse, to Blue being the one to have the dagger when he crossed, knowing her hunger for power."

"But she resisted it, somehow. This didn't go to plan. Look," Belle points to a section. "You were supposed to kill Regina, which secures you as the light, the Savior. Blue was supposed to absorb the darkness, and the balance would be restored. There has to be a balance."

"That's ridiculous," Emma scoffs. "We're all a mixture of good and bad, no one is purely one thing or another."

"Be that as it may, the fact remains that the Dark One's power was supposed to be transferred to the Blue Gnat and it wasn't." Regina glances out the window at yelling in the street, and the three women go out to investigate.

Grumpy is leaning out the window of Sleepy's van, his face is red and he's bellowing and causing a panic. "The world is crumbling, and it's coming this way! Run for your lives!"

Regina waves her hand and the van stops, Grumpy loses his balance and when he rights himself, the women are standing at his window. "What are you talking about, dwarf?"

"The world ends, Sister, and it's coming this way! It's.. it's a cliff, with nothing at the bottom, just that fog, and it's crumbling."

"How fast?" Emma asks, and as she looks up the hill towards the edge of town she entered from, she sees the tips of a row of trees disappear.

"Walking pace," Grumpy replies. "We have to go!"

"Go where?" Snow jogs up next to them.

"Anywhere!" Grumpy yells, and Sneezy guns the engine. Regina releases her hold on the vehicle and it sputters away. She stalks back into the pawn shop and lays the notebook under a reading light. She frantically flicks through the pages.

The bell over the door rings as the rest of the group joins her. "I think the Dark One's power needs to be bound to someone, otherwise his curse collapses in on itself. We're trapped inside until it does."

"Where does it say that?" Emma asks, peering over her shoulder.

Regina slams the book shut. "It doesn't. It doesn't say anything about this."

Snow reaches for the dagger, and Regina slaps her hand away. "Leave it alone, Snow."

Holding her stinging hand, Snow glares back. "I will do what needs to be done. I will save us."

Regina squints, then grabs the reading lamp and shines it at Snow, who shies away from the light, but not before a glimmer of something catches Regina's sharp eye. She grabs Snow by the rounded collar of Mary-Margaret's ghastly blouse and drags her into the back room, ignoring the clatter of Charmings behind her. She opens the door in front of her with magic, and with a final effort, she drags Snow into the bathroom.

She slams her against the wall and grabs her wrist with one hand and the back of her neck in the other, then despite the yelling and protesting, she shoves Snow's face into the lavatory bowl. She releases the woman's wrist and pulls the lever to flush it.

A hand grabs a fistful of her blazer and she falls backwards, half caught, half dragged away by the blonde cop. David stumbles over her legs as he charges past her and helps his wife stand, and she turns.

Emma and Regina lay on the floor and watch as Snow spits and splutters, water dripping from her short, black locks, her chest heaving under her wet blouse, and she stares intensely at Regina.

"Regina, what the--" David begins, but his wife cuts him off.

"Thank you," Snow says.

Emma frowns, and she wriggles underneath Regina to sit more upright on the floor. "What?"

Regina nods at Snow. "It's fine."

The short-haired woman extends her hand to help her former step-mother from the floor.

Emma clambers to her feet. "What the hell just happened?"

"Pixie dust. She had some on her face. Blue must have poisoned her." Regina adjusts her clothing then points to Snow's. "Sorry about the, uhh, method."

Snow chuckles. "No you're not," and the women grin at each other.

From the doorway, Belle notices Emma's continued confusion. "Pixie dust is magical in it's own right, it doesn't dissipate with the death of the caster, she was still affected."

"Mom!" Henry calls from the front room, panic in his voice, and it is followed by a grunt. The group part to allow Regina and Emma to push through, and follow closely. In the shop, Henry's arms are wrapped around Red's waist, barely holding her even though she seems to be hardly trying to move. She's standing directly in front of the dagger though, staring at it like it is a juicy steak and she's starving.

"Red, no!" Regina yells, and Red shies away from the object, her puppy-dog eyes fixed on the older woman.

She realises Henry is wrapped at her waist and glances at the dagger again. "Oh, I was guarding it but then...." she trails off.

Again they hear an engine out on the street. "It's here!" Grumpy's voice filters through, and the sounds of screams and people running past the shop draw their attention. When they look back, Regina is gone, as is the dagger.

Henry looks around, "Mom?"

Emma has a sinking feeling, but she has to reassure the boy. "I'll find her," she says, and with one look she knows her mother also knows.

* * *

Sunday, October 23, 2011 – 1:59pm

He can see town from here, but he knows it's not right. The trees had all looked strange, as though the life had been sucked from them all, and here is the town, colourless and empty.

Everything has a sepia tone, dull and lifeless. Down in the distance at the bottom of the hill he can see the sign for his shop. "Belle," he murmurs under his breath, and he keeps walking.

* * *

Sunday, October 23, 2011 – 2:04pm

The Chevelle pulls up next to Snow's truck in the cemetery parking lot, and the women bail out so fast they leave the doors wide open. They know David, Henry and Red are following on foot, and they don't have much time."

"Regina!" Emma screeches, flinging the mausoleum door open and grits her teeth to shove the coffin aside to expose the staircase below. "Regina, don't do it!"

They part ways at the bottom of the stairs and check the rooms in the vault below. Emma hears her mother yelp and runs back the way she came. In the large spell room, she can see Regina standing, her head slowly shaking. "I'm sorry."

Emma pushes her mother aside and pounds her fists on the invisible barrier barring them from entering the room. Somehow she can feel it isn't that strong, but it is beyond her expertise to magically break through it. "Regina, no!"

The brunette looks up at her, her deep brown eyes fixing on Emma's face for only a moment before she tears them away and looks back at the dagger atop the chest of drawers in front of her.

Emma's heart pounds as Regina picks the dagger up by the blade, a thin layer of velvet the only barrier between her fingertips and the ice cold metal. "No, there has to be another way!"

The blade catches the light and glints, appearing even more sinister than it's curved edge and pointed tip already imply.

"There isn't. Everything that's happening, that has happened, it's my fault. I created this town as a prison, and this dagger is the only way to free everyone. It's only fitting that I become cursed. I have to undo what I have done." Regina looked up at her again, tears in her eyes but yet to overflow.

Her voice feels raspy and she barely manages to speak louder than a whisper. "Regina, please..."

Snow grips her arm. "Emma, you have to let her go."

Her daughter whips around to yell at her. "You're only saying that because you hate her! You've been enemies for years but she's not that person anymore! She has changed!"

"No," Snow shakes her head, "this is Regina. This is the Regina I met as a girl. The one willing to put the happiness of others ahead of her own."

"She's succumbing to the pull of darkness again and you're just letting her do it. Again!"

The accusation seems to have some effect, and Snow casts a guilty look at Regina, tinged with a little fear as well, if Emma isn't mistaken. "Regina, is it.. are you doing this for the power?"

"Of course not," Regina says, "I will ensure the Dark One is prevented from causing harm."

Emma shakes herself free of Snow's grasp. "No, there has to be another way. There's always another way!" She looks away from her mother and back into the room they are magically prevented from entering. "Regina--"

"We don't have much time, the town is disappearing as will everyone in it, but once the Dark One's power is tethered again to a person, the curse will break and you will all be free to live in this world. I'm just sorry I can't take you home."

She lets velvet slips away and the moment Regina's hand comes in contact with the handle, the dagger sparks to life. Ribbons of black swirl out of it and wind around her arm, wind whips her hair and it appears to Emma to be causing her a lot of discomfort, if not pain.

Emma pounds her hands on the barrier. "Regina, no! Regina!"

Feet thunder down the stairs behind her and Snow turns just in time to catch Henry barrelling towards his mothers. "Henry, don't look."

"Mom!" He screams, and thrashes around in his grandmother's arms. He breaks free and runs to the barrier next to Emma. "Mom!"

Tears slip down her face as she sees the depth of her son's distress. "Henry, I'm sorry," she says, her croaky voice barely audible over the roaring sound of the darkness whipping around her in an ever-tightening cyclone.

Henry hands tightly onto Emma's arm. "You have to do something! You have to stop this," he pleads.

"I can't, Henry. I'm sorry," Emma chokes out, wishing she could.

He stamps his foot determinedly. "You're the Savior. You have to do something!"

"Henry, I don't know what to do!" She shouts.

The boy is insistent. "You're the Savior. You do know what you need to do. You've always known."

"I don't know how!"

He rolls his eyes in a move that is so Regina it makes Emma's heart clench even tighter. "You just have to believe!"

Emma stares at him wishing she had the innocence of youth and could believe that it would be that easy, but she feels it. She looks again at Regina, only her eyes visible in the gaps between ribbons of darkness, her concentration on another object on the top of the dresser that she was reaching for.

Realization dawns on Emma just as the needle pricks her finger, and Regina goes limp in the cold embrace of darkness. Emma presses her palms to the barrier.

"Believe, Emma, please! Please believe!" Henry screeches behind her.

She closes her eyes tightly and presses forward, not with her body, but with her intent, and she felt movement. She bounces back slightly when she opens her eyes, but the jerky movement is enough for Henry. "You did it!" He yelps. "Do it again!"

Emma closes her eyes again and pushes. She pushes with all her need and her desire to get in there, to get to Regina, she pushes with everything she has, and a moment later she hits the floor in front of her at the same time Regina does, the darkness now lingering only in small wisps again, whirling around and disappearing into the older woman before the room falls calm and silent again. Her hand opens and the dagger clinks against the stone floor.

'REGINA,' it now reads in bold letters.

Henry scrambles past Emma, who tries to tackle him and fails. He sinks to the floor and cradles his mother's head in his small hands. "Mom?"

His voice is so young and uncertain that Emma's heart breaks more than she ever thought possible. She crawls over to where Regina lays on her back, and Henry presses his forehead to her shoulder.

"Mom," he murmurs again, his sob muffled against her coat.

She places her hand on his back, rubbing it ever so slightly. He lifts his head up, his cheeks wet with tears, and he looks at the lifeless woman closely. Her skin is beginning to take on a shimmery, scaly appearance, and she looks almost jaundiced. "Don't leave me, Mom. I love you," he whispers, and kisses her cheek.

"Mom?" Henry asks tentatively. "Wake up, Mom." He looks up at his birth mother. "Why didn't it work?"

"Kiss her again, kid," Emma suggests.

Henry leans down, kissing his mother on the cheek again.

Nothing happens.

Taking Regina's hand in hers and squeezing it, Emma tries. "Regina?"

From the doorway, Snow cleared her throat. "She's under a sleeping curse." She purses her lips and says wistfully, "True Love's Kiss can break any spell."

Emma grumbles in frustration. "Henry's her True Love. She woke him from his sleeping curse. Why isn't it working now?"

Snow shrugs. "I'm sorry. Henry, I'm sorry. I don't know. True Love is magic, but maybe there's something else that we don't know. Maybe we should go back and talk to Belle."

With a look between them and a glance at Regina, Emma agrees. "Yeah, Henry. True Love is magic, your mom's magic is different now, or maybe her own is flat or something. Maybe you're like those defibrillator paddles and you just need to recharge again before you can break another curse. Why don't you two go and see Belle, see if she knows anything else we can do while we wait."

Henry moves to stand but hesitates.

"It's okay, I'll move her somewhere comfortable," Emma smiles comfortingly, thinking of the small cot where Henry had slept off his sleeping curse.

Her son and his grandmother leave, and Emma sighs as she looks at Regina. She runs her fingertips over her forehead, moving a stray lock of hair away from her brow. "Idiot," she mutters.

Emma slides her arms under the smaller woman and lifts her off the cold floor and carries her across the room. She sets her down gently atop the small cot and sweeps her hair back off her face again. "Brave, wonderful, stubborn idiot." She leans down, and presses her lips gently to the sleeping woman's forehead.

Though she has her eyes closed, the feeling is unmistakeable. The energy changes in the room in an instant, and for the second time that day a burst of white light rockets through her, and here she is, caught with her lips to--

Wait--

She pulls back and opens her eyes to find two dark brown eyes looking back at her.

"What the hell did you do?" Regina growls, and groggily sits up.

Emma tries to help her up but backs off when Regina swats her away. "I, umm, I don't know." She thinks Regina looks more like herself again, albeit tired, and her skin has returned to it's normal olive hue, smooth and alive. Emma spins around and looked at the dagger, or where it had been on the floor. Once again it is blank, Regina's name now removed.

"You don't know? You--" Regina touches her clothes. "How long was I under for?"

"Ten minutes, maybe?" Emma replies sheepishly.

"I'm not--" Regina looks at her hands. "I feel normal."

"You look normal again," Emma smirks.

Regina looks around the room and Emma can tell she's listening for her son.

"He, umm, he's gone with Snow to see Belle for help on curing you and waking you up."

With a roll of her shoulders and a twist to click her neck, Regina stands and looks Emma in the eye. "But you did it."

Emma hadn't seen much hope in Regina's eyes in the short time she'd known her, but she was almost certain that was what she was seeing now. Her smile brightens as an answer by itself.

Regina's eyes studied her face, mirth dancing just beneath the surface. "You're the child of True Love, the Savior, and a natural magic user. You are more powerful than you know."

"I thought.. doesn't it mean..." Emma stammers, and Regina sees her body language begin to close off.

"I don't know, I..." She studies Emma's nervous face. "Could it?"

Despite the gravity, Emma shrugs half-heartedly. "I guess." She looks up and Regina has one eyebrow raised. "Could it?"

Regina purses her lips. "Possibly, I suppose." She smiles at the way Emma's face lights up, and she reaches for a fistful of the blonde's uniform shirt. She pulls them together, and when their bodies collide neither can deny how right the closeness feels.

Emma studies Regina's face, the small lines at the corners of her eyes, her perfectly manicured eyebrows, the healed scar on her lip, those goddamn exquisite lips. She swallows, leans in, and catching Regina's eyes a fraction of a second before she closes her own, she presses their lips together.

She feels Regina's hand bunched in her shirt tighten, and her other hand slides around the small of her back. Emma's hands slide up the back Regina's arms from her elbows until she is holding her similarly to when they fell into the fire, or fell into bed, she should say. And goddamn if every fibre of her body didn't want to fall into bed with her again.

Regina remembers the feel of the taut abdomen pressed against her core, and her skin burns with desire. She breaks the kiss, though their faces remain together, their breaths mingle and tickle hot against each other's skin. "Definitely possible."

Hurried footsteps patter down the vault corridor. "Mom?" Henry throws himself into Regina's arms, though one of his arms lands around Emma's neck, she thinks by accident until he pulls her close as well. Emma wraps her arm around him, the other still around Regina, and the trio hug.

"You did it, Emma!" He says excitedly. "The edges stopped crumbling away."

Snow leans against the doorway. "Sheriff Graham radioed David from the town line. People can cross. We're free."

* * *

Sunday, October 23, 2011 – 2:28pm

Belle stands in the doorway of the shop, watching the people in the street celebrate their new-found freedom. She smiles softly for their joy, though her heart is heavy. She knows she may now leave and try to find Rumple, but with all that she knows of his manipulations, she's not sure she wants to.

She looks up at the clear blue sky and sighs.

Rumple approaches his store, still hopeful, though it's not the same. He looks up at the grey, overcast sky, and he feels a shiver as he pushes the door open to enter.

Belle shivers, though she is not cold, and she frowns slightly, thinking she hears the shop door bell ring, even though it hangs above her, untouched by the open door. She shrugs off her unease, steps out into the street, and walks towards Red who is waving at her from the street outside the diner.

* * *

Wednesday, December 7, 2011 – 7:54am

The morning sun reaches in the window, providing a gentle extra warmth to the plush covers on the Mayor's bed. A pale arm disappears under the cover, and Regina squeals as a cold hand slides over her bare breast.

Emma nuzzles into a tan shoulder, and she squeezes gently as she feels a nipple pucker and harden under her cold palm. "Morning," she mumbles.

A warm hand slides over her own, then Regina turns in her arms to face her. She plants a kiss on freckled nose, and slides her leg across so their thighs interlock. Emma rolls her hips just slightly, but the effect is very pleasant for them both.

"Today's the day, Miss Swan," Regina says softly, and then hisses as the half-warmed hand slides across her chest to massage her other breast.

She had worked constantly, with the help of Belle and Astrid, the sweet fairy that even Regina trusted despite being suspicious of all fairies, to find a way to create a portal for those who wished to return to their homeland.

After the barrier came down, many townsfolk went out into the world, but some returned, deciding that this world was good, but they preferred to be amongst their own. They enjoyed the benefits of this world - the vehicles, the indoor plumbing and central heating, democracy. They had held an election, and Regina won against King George, who now lead the group of folk who wanted to return to the Enchanted Forest.

With a lot of work, Regina believed she had found a way to use the Dark One's dagger and the endless energy within it create a power source for a portal, which she hoped to open today. Snow had initially expressed an interest in returning, but after much discussion had decided to remain in Storybrooke with her family and friends. Emma had no interest in a medieval land, Red preferred the control she had over her powers in this world, and David enjoyed the disintegration of the class systems that labelled him a prince when he was, in all honesty, just a shepherd boy in Prince's clothing.

"It's going to be a big day," Regina says, and hums in Emma's ear as she rolls more weight on top of her and kisses her neck.

Kisses on her neck shift to her collarbone, and Emma moves her other leg between Regina's as well, opening her up. She lifts her head up to look into happy, sleepy eyes. "Well you know what they say," she dots kisses along Regina's jaw, "you should always start the day with a good breakfast!"

She ducks under the duvet and peppers kisses down the brunette's sternum, hands still massaging breasts and tweaking pert nipples. She feels Regina's heat pressed firmly against her abdomen, and the woman rolls against her, and the moisture against her travels up her skin as Emma ventures deeper under the covers.


End file.
